Fhe Rockies of Canada 



Walter D.Wilcox 



of Canada 

RGED EDITION OF 
THE CANADIAN ROCKIES" 

V PHOTOGRAVURE AND OTHER 
S FROM ORIGINAL PHOTO- 
i THE AUTHOR 



DWIGHX^yWd>IiC©5C, RR.G 

" A lake is the landscape* 's most beautiful and expressive 
feature. It is earth's eye ; looking into which the be- 
holder measures the depth of his own nature."— Thorkau. 

THIRD EDITION- 




SONS 

l LONDON 

Zbc T press 



THE 

Rockies of Canada 

A REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION OF 
" CAMPING IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES" 

WITH MORE THAN FORTY PHOTOGRAVURE AND OTHER 
ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL PHOTO- 
GRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 



WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX, F.R.G.S. 

AUTHOR OF " FICTURESQUE LANDSCAPES IN THE CANADIAN 
ROCKY MOUNTAINS" 

THIRD EDITION 




G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

Xtbe Umicfterbocfeer press 

1909 






LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two GoDies Received 

IVlAh 29 W09 

Copyri*nt entry ^ 
CLASS IV XXc, No. 

z3$tS5 

COPY 3. 



Copyright, igoo 

BY 

WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX 
Copyright, 1909 

BY 

WALTER DWIGHT WILCOX 



Ube ftnfcfeerbocfcer ipresa, mew L'otfc 



Q 



PREFACE 

THE increasing popularity of the Canadian Rock- 
ies as a pleasure ground and the author's 
experiences among them, now extending 
over nearly twenty years, make changes necessary 
in the present work from time to time. In this edi- 
tion, a considerable part of the text has accordingly 
been rewritten, and nearly half the steel plates are 
new. 

The work is illustrated with reproductions of 
photographs taken by the author. Pictures are an 
essential, if not the most vital, element of every book 
of travel, and no pains have been spared to achieve 
the best possible results in this part of the work. 
The views have been selected to give a comprehen- 
sive idea of the mountains and cover a large variety 
of subjects. Many of the landscapes, especially the 
views of lakes, were obtained only after patient 
effort and long delays, while awaiting the favourable 
opportunity to secure a photograph. Nature, espe- 
cially in the mountains, reveals her most inspiring 
moments and her most beautiful combinations of sky 
and clouds, of distant peaks, half veiled in purple 
haze, of reflected forest trees or sparkling water, so 



IV 



preface 



rarely, that only a tireless patience may claim the 

prize of a perfect picture. Year after year the author 

has returned to artistic spots, in the effort to get 

difficult subjects, and amongst these, success and 

failure have been measured out in a manner as 

uncertain and capricious as the weather itself. Most 

of the views have been reproduced with remarkable 

fidelity to the original negatives, and though a few 

of the most artistic effects cannot be rendered by any 

mechanical process, the author hopes that the 

general standard of illustration has been materially 

raised. 

The contour map, covering a large part of the 

mountains under discussion, is a photographic copy 

from an original kindly supplied by the Department 

of the Interior of Canada. For allowing him to 

reproduce and use this map the author gratefully 

acknowledges the kindness and courtesy of Dr. E. 

Deville, Surveyor General, and of Mr. Arthur O. 

Wheeler, Topographer. 

W. D. W. 

Washington, D. C, March, 1909. 



CONTENTS 








CHAPTER PAGE 

I— The Rockies of Canada i 


II— Lake Louise 






12 


III— Its Environment 






■ 33 


IV — Paradise Valley 






54 


V— Mt. Assiniboine 






69 


VI— A Second Visit 






98 


VII — Camp Life 






ii3 


VIII— In Search of Mt. Brown 


AND 


Mt, 




Hooker 






139 


IX— Exploring the Vermilion 






168 


X— Moraine Lake 






198 


XI — Wenkchemna Lake 






205 


XII— Lake O'Hara 






220 


XIII— Mountaineering 






234 


XIV — Hunting and Fishing 






258 


XV — The Stony Indians 






281 


Index 






295 



PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS 



Lake O'Hara .... Frontispiece 

Banff Springs Hotel 

Bow River and Cascade Mountain 

Lake Louise and Mount Lefroy . 

Lake Louise and Mount Victoria 

Mounts Victoria and Lefroy from Mount Niblock 

View from Little Beehive 

Discovery of Paradise Valley . 

Mount Temple from the Saddleback 

Camp in Paradise Valley 

Giant Steps Falls .... 

Mount Assiniboine .... 

Assiniboine Group from the North-east 

On the Continental Divide 

Lake Aline 

Bill Peyto 

Crossing a High Pass 

Camp at the Bow Pass 

Mount Balfour 

The Bow Lake 




Page 

6 

10 

16 

28 , 

34 
38 
48 

54 

58 

66 

82 

88 

100 

108 

118 

126 

132 

140 

144 



Vlll 



photogravure Illustrations. 



Page 



Source of the Little Fork of the Saskatchewan 


River 


. 146 


Storm in Little Fork Valley 




. 150 


Fortress Lake 




. l60 


Moraine Lake . 




. 172 


Consolation Valley . 




. 176 


Storm Scene .... 




. 182 


Early Morning at Moraine Lake 






An Ideal Camp 




. 206 


Alpine Flower Gardens 




. 208 


Wenkchemna Lake . 




. 214 


Lake O'Hara 




. 220 


Outlet of Lake O'Hara 




. 224 


Lake Mo Arthur 




. 228 


Mount Hector and Slate Mountains 




. 234 


On the North Slope of Pinnacle Mountain 


. 240 


View South-east from Slope of Mount Assin 


iboine 246 


Head of Rocky Mountain Sheep 


. 270 


In the Enemy's Country . 


» t 


. 282 



ILLUSTRATIONS OTHER THAN 
PHOTOGRAVURE 

Head of Rocky Mountain Goat . . . 262 

A Typical Stony Indian 286 

A Stony Indian Mother and Children . . 290 

Map In pocket at end. 



THE ROCKIES OF CANADA 



THE 
ROCKIES OF CANADA 



CHAPTER I 

THE CANADIAN PLAINS— CHARACTERISTICS OF THE ROCKIES 
— COMPARISON WITH OTHER GREAT RANGES OF THE WORLD 
—THE NATIONAL PARK OF CANADA— BANFF— A VISIT TO 
THE DEVIL'S LAKE AND GHOST RIVER VALLEY— SIR GEORGE 
SIMPSON'S JOURNEY THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS— AN INCI- 
DENT OF INDIAN WARFARE — THE VERMILION LAKES AND 
SOME FOREST TREES OF THE MOUNTAINS 

THE western plains of Canada, rolling in gentle 
undulations of hill and dale, extend east a 
thousand miles to the wheat fields of Mani- 
toba, south to the arid plateau of Colorado, and 
north to the frozen regions of the Arctic and the 
Barren Lands. They appear to have no definite 
limits except on their western border where the 
Rockies rise out of them like rugged shores from a 
great sea. The herds of innumerable buffaloes which 



2 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

formerly roamed here have disappeared through the 
criminal slaughter of the white man's rifle, though 
the Indians remain as a last relic of primitive Western 
life and their roving bands of horsemen give a dash 
of life and colour to the monotonous plains. For a 
score of miles or more there is a region of quiet 
beauty where the foothills make a borderland be- 
tween plains and mountains. Here rivers fed by 
melting glaciers and snow freshets in the mountains 
make their way eastwards on their long journey over 
the plains. Their terraced valleys are covered by a 
thin turf which is brightened, at least in early sum- 
mer, by prairie flowers, while the higher places are 
crowned with groves of a rough-barked evergreen 
called the Douglas fir. The Rockies, like an impas- 
sable rampart, terminate these hills and show a 
multitude of snowy peaks extending north and south 
beyond the limits of vision. These mountains have 
on their eastern side a rocky escarpment with jutting 
headlands towering in abrupt cliffs thousands of feet 
above the plains. 

The great system of the Pacific Cordillera, which 
is generally called the Rocky Mountains, commences 
far south in Mexico and sweeps north to Alaska. 
The alkaline valleys of Nevada and the glaciers of 
Alaska, the cactus of Arizona and the evergreen 
forests of British Columbia mark the diversity of 
climate in a mountain system of such vast extent, 
while the granite domes of the Sierras, the bare and 
lofty summits of Colorado, and the snow-covered 



Cbaracteristica of tbe IRocMes 3 

dolomites and quartzite ledges of the Canadian 
Rockies illustrate the possibilities of mountain 
forms. 

There are many reasons why the Rockies of 
Canada are interesting to the mountain climber and 
explorer. They have only recently been made ac- 
cessible. Though these mountains have not the 
absolute height of those in Colorado, their apparent 
grandeur is greater because the valleys are both deep 
and narrow, richly forested and frequently guarded 
by cliffs which are precipitous for three, four, or 
even five thousand feet. Such rock walls are some- 
times adorned by clinging trees and bushes or beauti- 
fied by sparkling waterfalls playing at the mercy of 
changing breezes in their dizzy fall. Above are snow 
fields and hanging glaciers which often awaken 
thunders among the mountains by avalanches of ice. 
There are besides many lakes of blue or bluish-green 
colour, some of them hidden in the solitudes of ever- 
green forests, others enclosed by rugged cliffs, or 
exposed on the open expanse of upland meadows, 
and so they add beauty to their grand environment. 

In comparison with other ranges of the world, the 
Canadian Rockies are unusually interesting. The 
Andes of Ecuador, Peru, and Chile have mountains 
from twenty thousand to twenty-three thousand feet 
above sea-level, or nearly twice the height of the 
greatest peaks of southern Canada. The highest 
mountains in the world, the Himalayas, reach such 
stupendous altitudes that no human being may hope, 



4 Gbe IRocfuea of Canada 

in the immediate future at least, to reach their sum- 
mits on foot. But these great ranges lie in parts of 
the world somewhat remote from the beaten tracks 
of travel. Whymper's description of the Andes in 
Ecuador and Fitz Gerald's of those in Chile show 
that the lack of vegetation on their higher parts 
gives them a bare and dreary aspect. Sven Hedin's 
account of the Kuenlun and other ranges in Central 
Asia proves that they are likewise comparatively 
bare of forests and that their grandeur is not accom- 
panied by beauty. The Caucasus and Alps, espe- 
cially the latter, alone equal or surpass the Canadian 
Rockies, because they have scenic grandeur of snow 
fields and forests combined with historical interest. 

The Canadian Rockies have no single peaks or 
groups of mountains so far discovered equal to the 
Jungfrau, the Matterhorn, or Mont Blanc. Their wild 
and secluded valleys echo neither to the tinkle of 
bells nor the call of horn. Their interest depends on 
natural beauty added to the fact that their solitudes 
are as yet unfrequented by travellers. Where many 
of the larger rivers and mountain ranges remain as 
yet unexplored, every side valley offers some pos- 
sibility of discovery. The mountaineer likewise 
standing on the windy summit of some high point com- 
mands a view, not of a limited circle of mountains as 
in Switzerland with the sea and plains beyond, but 
of a chaotic upheaval where countless peaks and 
ridges extend in every direction beyond the utmost 
possibility of vision — four hundred miles to the 



Gbe Wational fl>ark of Canaba 5 

Pacific, a thousand towards the Arctic, a thousand 
and more southwards. 

All this region was practically an unknown wilder- 
ness before the completion of the Canadian Pacific 
Road. This undertaking was formally begun on the 
20th of July, 1 87 1, when British Columbia entered 
the Dominion of Canada and on which day the first 
survey parties commenced work. Eleven different 
routes were surveyed across the several ranges of 
the Rockies before the work of construction began. 
In 1880 the Government seemed unable to make any 
progress in so vast an undertaking and gave over its 
control to a private corporation. Under new man- 
agement, what was at that time the longest railroad 
in the world was soon an accomplished fact, and in 
1886 a new region. was opened to mountain climbers 
and travellers. 

Places of unusual interest and beauty were then 
chosen among the mountains, of which the chief is 
Banff in the Rocky Mountains Park. This reserve 
has an area ot 48 14 square miles, while the Yoho Park, 
adjoining it, covers 725 square miles. Game is pro- 
tected and roads are being built every year to reach 
new places. A small body of the North-west Mounted 
Police is stationed here to enforce the game laws and 
keep order generally. Their exploits with rebellious 
Indians and desperadoes on the plains make the 
theme of many exciting tales. They wear a scarlet 
uniform, Wellington boots, and a small circular cap 
gayly tilted to one side of the head. Their duties are 



6 Gbe iRocMes of Canaba 

easier now than a few years ago when there were 
laws in force against the sale of whiskey, for many 
desperate attempts were made in those days to 
smuggle in stimulants, which were regarded neces- 
sary to stave off the rigours of a severe climate. The 
thirsty inhabitants of Banff met with some success, 
though in the process many bottles were smashed 
and many barrels were rolled into the Bow River. 
Whiskey is easily obtained by everyone now, and 
the people have accordingly lapsed into temperance. 

The village of Banff consists of a few scattered 
houses and stores, with the necessary schoolhouses 
and churches for the enlightenment of the people, 
and several hotels for the entertainment of summer 
guests. Some excellent roads and bridle-paths lead 
through pine and poplar groves to places of interest, 
such as the hot sulphur springs, the Spray valley, 
and Lake Minnewanka. 

From the summit of Tunnel Mountain, which is 
exactly one thousand feet above Banff, a very good 
idea of the surrounding region may be had. The Bow 
River comes from the north-west, passes through 
the village of Banff, and after forcing a passage be- 
tween great mountains, flows east to the plains, 
which are concealed by intervening ranges. South- 
wards, for many miles, may be seen the green val- 
ley of the Spray River, an unbroken mass of forest 
enclosed by long ridges, one of which, Mt. Rundle, is 
nearly ten thousand feet high and towers a mile above 
the Bow. To the north-east is seen the end of 






tants of B some sir 

le process were 

barrels w lie Bow R 

asily o y everyone now, and 

psed i ^ance. 

onsists of 
i the nea 
les for the enlightenmc_ r 
ral hotelsW^mmt^ 1 - 
Some excellent roads and t 

and poplar groves to places of intere 
hot sulphur springs, the Spray valle 
aewanka. 
mmit of T 
one thousand ft 
the surrounding r< 
omes from the 
>f Banff, a 
mountains, I 
concealed by inter 
r many miles, may be 
River, an unbr 
■>, one of whic 
n thousand igh andtov 

st is 



Banff 7 

Minnewanka Lake, beyond a series of gravel ridges 
which are relics of the glacial period. 

About one mile from the village, on an eminence 
overlooking the junction of the Bow and Spray rivers, 
stands the Banff Springs Hotel. The Bow River 
makes a fine cascade between rocky walls just below 
the hotel, which latter is a comfortable place with 
accommodations for a large number of guests. The 
verandas command, from a considerable height, a 
magnificent view of the foaming river, while a vista 
of snowy peaks almost unrivalled on this continent 
is seen in the distance through a gap in the nearer 
limestone cliffs. 

Several years ago, two gentlemen decided to as- 
cend Cascade Mountain, one of the highest peaks of 
the neighbourhood. Instead of taking such advice 
as was offered, they would have it that a course over 
an intervening ridge was preferable to any other. 
They started out with the intention of returning 
within twenty-four hours, but instead mysteriously 
disappeared for three days. Then they returned, 
much to the relief of their friends, who were by that 
time alarmed for their safety. It appears that they 
had been lost in a region of burnt timber where they 
had wandered hungry and hopeless till some fate 
led them to a place of safety. No one knows how 
far they went or where, but it is certain that upon 
reaching the hotel they retired to their rooms and 
remained there the greater part of the ensuing week. 

In the early summer of 1899, I made a camping 



io Gbe IRocfties of Canafca 

they were discovered and attacked by their pursuers. 
Terrified by the fear of almost certain death, the 
Cree advised his wife to submit without making any 
defence. She was possessed of a more courageous 
spirit, however, and replied that as they were young 
and had but one life to lose they had better exert 
every effort in self-defence. Accordingly she brought 
down the foremost warrior with a well-aimed shot. 
From very shame her husband was forced to join the 
contest and mortally wounded two of the advancing 
foe with arrows. There were now but two on each 
side. The fourth warrior had by this time reached 
the Cree's wife and with upraised tomahawk was on 
the point of cleaving her head when his foot caught 
in some inequality of the ground and he fell prostrate. 
With lightning stroke the undaunted woman buried 
a dagger in his side. Dismayed by this unexpected 
slaughter of his companions, the fifth Indian took to 
flight after wounding the Cree in his arm. 

One of the most interesting excursions in the 
vicinity of Banff is a boating trip up the Bow River 
and through the Vermilion lakes. This part of the 
Bow valley above the falls is flat and the river is here 
wide and deep, with a comparatively moderate cur- 
rent. A small stream half a mile from the boat-house 
leads to the Vermilion lakes, and on pleasant sum- 
mer days is alive with canoes and boating parties. 
The stream comes from two shallow lakes not far 
away, and the voyage thither is full of interest. In 
places the waterway is too narrow to permit of the 




.«$fc^ 










ny 
a mor 
i that a 
one life to lose the; 
{-defence. Accordin 
st warrior with a well-ai 
ameherhi >rced to join the 

mortally ie advancing 

- rows. Tl 
The fourth 
wife and 

!t 0f d MWiverand Cascade Mountain. 

,ome inequality o 
With lightning stroke the undaunted woman buried 
er in his side. Dismayed by this unexpected 
ughter of his companions, the fifth Indian took to 
it after wounding the Cree in his arm. 

ie of the most interesting exci 
lity of Banff is a boating trip up 
gh the Vermilion lakes 
ove the falls is fln 
with a comp; 
im half 
nilion 

omes 

of the 











,; , i 






(Hi '•*' v 
' HI 


i 1 i 


1 

i 










B... 




4* 
Hi 


Pi; 


^p#.- : -' 


IPWi 




* 


% 


kA 


mm . 






*- ~ lift/ iSSk 


§ 


r 








H ■ ; 




\ 


r* 




hj> 






>•' """" ' - 






\|H| 




— 


^ III 


' 








JL j.j.iji 


'• 



Gbe IDermilion Xafces n 

use of oars and you must paddle between tangled 
bushes and marsh grasses, dodging meanwhile the 
overhanging branches of willows and alders. 

On these lakes there is an excellent opportunity 
to study some of the characteristic features of the 
Canadian Rockies. The surrounding mountains are 
covered with evergreens, part of that great subarctic 
forest which sweeps down from the north and 
clothes all Canada and the northern States in a gar- 
ment of sombre green. The trees are spruce, balsam- 
fir, and pine. On the sunny south-facing slopes 
there are a few large Douglas firs which penetrate 
the lower mountain valleys from the foothills, but do 
not live at much higher altitudes than that of Banff, 
which is forty -five hundred feet above sea-level. The 
open glades are filled with small aspen poplars, wil- 
lows, and birches, which are practically the only 
deciduous trees. These live only at the lower alti- 
tudes, but the spruces and balsam-firs cover the grey 
limestone mountains to a height of nearly three thou- 
sand feet above this valley. The red squirrels and 
chipmunks surprise the visitor by their tameness. 
Many of the wild birds are likewise very tame, and 
I have seen a number of finches engaged in picking 
seeds from bushes within two yards of where I was 
walking. 



CHAPTER II 

EARLIEST VISITS TO LAKE LOUISE — VIEW OF LAKE FROM 
THE CHALET — DESCRIPTION OF THE LAKE — SWAMP FLOW- 
ERS — THE WHITE-FLOWERED RHODODENDRON — THE! RAIL 
NEAR THE LAKE — CLIFFS OF THE WEST SHORE — THE DELTA 
OF THE INLET STREAM — THE ROCK SLIDE OF THE SOUTH 
SHORE — COLOUR OF LAKE LOUISE WATER — TEMPERATURE 
IN MIDSUMMER — SOME INSECT PESTS — BATTLES OF HORSE- 
FLIES AND WASPS — CHALET LIFE — SUMMER CLIMATE AT 
THE LAKE— THUNDER-STORMS— LIGHT EFFECTS AND COLOUR 
ILLUSIONS — AN OCTOBER VISIT TO LAKE LOUISE — AN AVA- 
LANCHE FROM MT. LEFROY — A WARNING OF WINTER'S 
APPROACH 

LAKE LOUISE is near the Bow valley, about 
forty miles from Banff. Who first discovered 
the lake or whatever became of him is lost to 
history. It is probable that venturesome spirits came 
to this wild spot during the early years of railroad 
building, or possibly when the first surveyors as- 
cended the Bow valley. 

The earliest record of a visit that I have been able 
to find tells how, in 1882, Tom Wilson was camped 
with a pack train near the mouth of the Pipestone, 
when some Stony Indians came along and placed their 
teepees near him. Not long after, a heavy snow- 
slide or avalanche was heard among the mountains 

12 



Earliest IDisits to lake Xouiee 13 

to the south, and in reply to inquiry one of the 
Indians named Edwin, the Gold Seeker, said that the 
thunder came from a "big snow mountain above 
the lake of little fishes/' The next day Wilson and 
Edwin rode through the forests to the lake of little 
fishes, which was named subsequently for the Prin- 
cess Louise. The Indian told of two smaller lakes 
higher on the mountain side to the west, one of 
which, called by him the " Goats' Looking-Glass," 
is now known as Lake Agnes. 

The history of the mountains may be divided 
roughly into two periods : first a search for the 
easiest route through the wilderness, then an in- 
vasion of climbers looking for unconquered diffi- 
culties. Such groups of snowy peaks as surround 
Lake Louise while repelling the early explorer and 
surveyor later became favourite resorts for the climber. 

Some time before 1890, a rustic inn was placed on 
the swampy shore of the lake, and a waggon road 
was made to open communication with the railroad 
at the little station of Laggan. In this way the first 
travellers came to Lake Louise. But one day in 1893 
this log building caught fire, and burned to the 
ground, so that there were no accommodations and 
very few visitors that summer. However, with a 
friend I spent two weeks of that season, camping out 
in a tent among the tall trees near the shore, and in a 
small way we commenced our earliest explorations 
of the neighbourhood, which was at that time com- 
paratively new. 



14 Gbe IRocfcies of Canada 

The new chalet stands on a ridge near the water 
edge and gives a splendid, and possibly the best, 
view of the lake. The extreme length of this in- 
teresting body of water, which is shaped like the left 
human foot, is one mile and a quarter, but from the 
magnitude of the mountains on every side it appears 
at first glance to be a mere pool. The primitive 
simplicity of a virgin forest is shown in its densely 
wooded shores and the tangle of bushy banks where 
fallen trees, mossy in decay, are half concealed by 
underbrush and flowering shrubs. A narrow margin 
of angular stones and rounded boulders marks the 
shore line. From this the bottom drops away very 
suddenly to great depths, but you may see large 
stones under the water and water-logged hulks of old 
trees swept long ago from their positions on the 
mountain sides by avalanches. 

Lake Louise has the enduring attraction of nature 
in one of her grandest and most inspiring moods. It 
is a deeply coloured lake between wooded slopes, 
which sweep upwards on either side in unbroken 
masses of green, to barren cliffs above tree line. On 
the left the forest growth ascends more steeply to 
the base of a grand precipice, while farther down the 
lake a massive pile of fallen rocks rests against the 
mountain base and dips abruptly into the water. 
Mt. Victoria, a giant of the continental watershed, 
stands square across the valley end beyond the lake. 
Its brilliant ice fields make striking contrast to the 
dark forests and shadowy cliffs encircling the lake. 



Swamp 3f lowers 15 

In early morning and during calms after a storm, the 
placid surface reflects the precipices and hanging 
glaciers of the distant Mt. Victoria, and brings that 
picture of Alpine grandeur in pleasing proximity to 
the beauty of spruce-lined shores and richly coloured 
water. These mountain outlines are so harmonious, 
and the colour changes so exquisite, that Lake Louise 
is a realisation of the perfect beauty of nature beyond 
the power of imagination. Though surprisingly at- 
tractive to the new arrival, Lake Louise, like many 
another beautiful phase of natural scenery, grows in 
impressiveness when experience has given a true 
idea of the distance and magnitude of the surrounding 
mountains. 

The swampy shore before the chalet makes a 
fine display of wild flowers even in these times when 
a new set of visitors comes every day to tear them 
up. Every spot in these mountains has its character- 
istic plants according to the nature of the ground and 
its altitude above sea. There is at this end of the 
lake a low and swampy shore, reeking with surface 
water from cold springs, unable to escape through 
the clayey soil beneath. Yellow violets and several 
species of anemones thrive here together with a con- 
siderable number of greenish orchids, and the fragrant 
lady's tresses, but by far the most beautiful flower is 
the yellow mountain columbine, a near cousin to the 
scarlet variety of our eastern rock banks. There are 
several shrubs, of which red-flowered sheep-laurel 
and white-tufted Labrador tea are most conspicuous, 



1 6 £be IRocfeies of Canaba 

the leaves of the latter being covered underneath 
with a rusty down. In the retirement of partial forest 
shade the beautiful white-flowered rhododendron 
grows. This bush has tender leaves of an oval 
shape, and is decorated in spring with large bell- 
shaped flowers, which hang their white corollas in 
artistic clusters among the foliage. In June you will 
find them in bloom near Lake Louise, but the bush 
grows higher on the mountains also, and there they 
blossom in July, or rarely in August. As in many 
other mountain plants, the succession of flowers 
throughout the summer season comes from the low- 
est valleys upwards to higher altitudes. The scrub 
birch, Betula glandulosa, has no flowers except in- 
conspicuous catkins, but its long black wands and 
small round leaves soon become familiar to every 
visitor to these mountains, for this bush is rarely 
absent from any mountain meadow. 

A rather rough trail closely follows the north shore, 
and with perseverance you may arrive at the far end 
of the lake. New mountains appear as you proceed, 
and the form of the lake, which from the chalet 
seems like a round pool, changes apparently into a 
long and narrow body of water. Through a vertical 
opening in the cliffs at the head of the lake, Mt. 
Lefroy looms in the distance, crowned with a helmet 
of perpetual snow and hanging glacier. The extreme 
end of the lake is guarded by a vertical cliff. The 
trail ascends to avoid a pile of stones which have 
fallen from above, and so traverses a grassy slope, 



i6 

underneath 

iorest 

ndron 

val 

..jng the foliage, 
bloom near I. 
uglier on the mount; 
ssom in July, or rarely in 
other mountain plants, the lowers 

liout the summer seaso w- 

valleys upwards to higher ah 

birch, BeuM k iiMmmm^Mimh Le f r °y' 

conspicuous catkins, but its long black v 
small round leaves soon become familiar to evSry 
tor to these mountains, for this bush is rarely 
■nt from any mountain meado 
A rather rough trail closely foil 
1 with perseverance you m 
lake. New mount 
form of the 
i round 

■rowboc vertical 

the cliff: Mt. 

y a vertic; 
I a pile of stc ave 

o traverses a »pe, 



Gbe Erail near tbe Xafte 17 

where the blue sky above is portrayed in the petals 
of the most perfect forget-me-nots that I have ever 
^een. Their cheery yellow eyes and bright blossoms 
decorate tall branching plants, and make a pretty dis- 
play throughout the entire summer. 

Then the trail descends directly towards the cliffs, 
winds among great spruce trees, and enters a place 
of sombre and perpetual twilight, made by over- 
hanging cliffs and forest depths. This is a marvellous 
revelation of the stupendous grandeur of these Rocky 
Mountains. The cliffs are disposed in horizontal 
layers of a hard and shiny quartz sandstone, stained 
red and orange transversely by iron, and vertically 
banded purple and black, where oozing waters drip 
from the trees above. Throughout the first three 
hundred feet the cliff rises sheer, or overhangs in 
some places where large blocks of this world masonry 
have fallen and left natural arches. On the higher 
places spruce trees cling with precarious foothold, 
their trunks parallel to the cliff, and so measuring the 
inspiring height of the precipice. The lapping water, 
a few yards below, touches the base of a pile of 
immense rocks, heaped in confusion as they have 
fallen from the crags, whence danger seems to 
threaten as you approach. 

Emerging from this place of solemn grandeur, the 
trail leads down to a flat meadow at the head of Lake 
Louise. Here marsh reeds and white-tufted cotton- 
grass grow in the sand and gravel which a muddy 
stream has carried down to the lake from a glacier a 



1 8 £be IRocfcies of Canaba 

mile or more up the valley. This is in fact a delta, 
which is slowly growing as the coarse materials are 
added to the shore, while the finer sand and clay rush 
out in a tongue of milky water to defile the blue lake. 
About a quarter mile of the ancient lake basin has 
been filled in, but as this has no doubt required all 
the thousands of years since the glacial period, and 
the lake itself is exceedingly deep, many ages must 
elapse before the lake entirely disappears. 

It is almost impossible to continue the journey 
around the lake, as the inlet stream is rather difficult 
to cross, and the south side of the lake for nearly a 
mile is nothing less than a tremendous conical pile 
of stones resting against the mountain side. This 
place is well worth thorough exploration in a boat. 
Some banks of snow, left by winter snow-slides, often 
remain till August, in one or two shady spots near 
the water. The rock-slide is composed of small and 
large fragments disposed in unstable equilibrium, at 
an angle of about forty-five degrees, and descending 
below the water at the same angle, so that at two 
hundred feet from the shore the depth is about two 
hundred feet. These rocks are richly coloured with 
lichens of various shades. Part of the slide is covered 
by birch and willow brush. Even a few spruces 
have ventured to grow in this perilous place, though 
the green vegetation is everywhere scored by narrow 
bands of bare ground, showing where rocks and 
snow-slides have swept resistlessly through. In fact it 
is rather dangerous to approach very near, even in a 



Colour of Xafce Xouise Mater 19 

boat, as stones, which travel at great speed, may fall 
at any time from the cliffs. Above the slide an al- 
most perpendicular wall of rock ascends more than a 
thousand feet, and then rises less abruptly till it ends 
in the summit of Fairview Mountain 3300 feet above 
the lake. 

The usual colour of Lake Louise, which varies con- 
siderably according to the effect of sunlight, is a 
robin's-egg blue. Tyndall says that this blue colour 
of glacial water and lakes, like that of the sky, is due 
to infinitesimally small particles of matter held in 
suspension. The water is very clear in early spring, 
but the incoming stream brings down a muddy freshet 
from the glacier during July and August, so that a 
milky colouring then appears and lasts till the frosts 
of October. The lake finds an outlet near the chalet 
in a broad and shallow stream, but after a few hundred 
yards this changes to a boulder-strewn torrent where 
it begins a rapid descent of six hundred feet to the 
Bow River. The deepest place in the lake is 
230 feet, and this is near the rock-slide. With 
a long rope and a piece of iron pipe I got some 
mud from the bottom where the water was two 
hundred feet in depth. This mud is the very 
finest rock dust ground up by the glacier, which 
settles to the bottom century after century, where it 
remains as a fine clay and upon drying turns to a 
white powder. At certain times the surface of the lake 
is covered by a kind of yellow scum that on examina- 
tion proves to be pollen from the spruce forests. 



20 Gbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

The temperature of the water, coining as it does 
from a glacial stream and melting snow, is very cold, 
and the highest point reached in August is 57 de- 
grees, which is about the average daily temperature 
of the air for this month, at Lake Louise. There is a 
spring near the chalet which pours out a little stream 
of sparkling water only five degrees above freezing, 
and I found another at the north end of the lake only 
one and one-half degrees above freezing. Never- 
theless in this very coldest water some brown con- 
fervas grow. 

Small brook and rainbow trout live in the lake, 
but the fishing is not very exciting, as the countless 
flies and moths that are blown upon the water in the 
daily south wind supply an abundance of food. No 
reason is apparent why large fish are not found here 
as in other similar lakes in these mountains, but 
possibly the fine mud in the water makes a poor 
habitat for lake trout. 

Nature rarely permits perfection, and the wonder- 
ful beauty of Lake Louise is somewhat balanced by 
mosquitoes which swarm from June till the middle of 
August. Newcomers are most annoyed, especially 
those from Europe where mosquitoes are scarce, but 
old-timers are practically immune from their attacks 
and from any poisonous effect of their bites. Several 
different species of mosquitoes are found here, and, 
not to go into the scientific names, they may be 
classed as small grey ones and large brown fellows, 
some that fly on silent wing, and others — the worst 



Some flneect peste 21 

of all — that announce their pestiferous presence by 
persistent singing. Fortunately the nights are cold 
enough to make them retire after about nine o'clock. 

Another insect pest is a large horse-fly appropri- 
ately called the "bull-dog" from its ferocious bite, 
which feels like a fiery spark. They are among the 
toughest of all insects not protected by a case as 
beetles are, and fly away unharmed after receiving a 
hard blow of the hand. These bull-dogs frequent 
all the lower valleys, and appear during the warm 
summer days, when they drive horses nearly frantic. 
Their instinct leads them to bite only rough things 
and so leave your face and hands alone. Thus they 
spend most of their time prodding your clothes in 
vain and testing the rough hide of a horse, but they 
sometimes make mistakes. 

The bull-dogs and wasps wage continual warfare, 
and this species of fly, which invariably gets the 
worst of it, would certainly disappear if the wasps 
were not so few, or the flies not practically inex- 
haustible. Their miniature battles are most interest- 
ing. Sometimes you will see a wasp pursue and 
capture a fly in mid-air, whereupon the contestants 
fall to the ground and for a moment it is impossible 
to follow the movements of either in their mad 
buzzing circles. From the whirling centre of motion 
come legs and wings, and in a brief moment the fly 
is powerless, shorn of every means of movement by 
the sharp jaws of the wasp. Finally the wasp cuts 
off the head of its helpless victim and leaves the 



22 Gbe IRocWea of Canafca 

lifeless body that it may continue the chase. These 
acts of the wasps are assuredly cold-blooded and 
murderous, for the victim's body is neither eaten nor 
carried away for future use. Some old family feud 
must be at the bottom of it all. 

Simplicity of chalet life at Lake Louise and per- 
haps even more the adventures on the mountains 
beget a ready acquaintance, which often ripens into 
lasting friendship. It is a study in human nature to 
watch the new arrivals day by day, and to observe 
the effect on each of the superb view which appears 
where the road emerges from the forest. Some 
people are overawed and stand on the lake shore in 
silent wonderment, while the majority exclaim "This 
is the most beautiful scene I have ever looked upon." 
A few, after a brief glance at the lake, hasten into the 
chalet for something to eat, thus balancing their 
hunger for material things and their love of nature, 
in uneven scale, but giving a testimonial at the same 
time to the value of mountain air as an appetiser. 

Many interesting people are found among the 
visitors, while the good cheer and hearty comrade- 
ship that reign in this simple place are contagious. 
At evening a large fireplace is heaped with pine logs, 
and a fire is kindled which throws light and cheerful 
warmth against the chill of frosty nights. Then 
amid curling smoke and the clink of glasses the mis- 
haps of the day are related. Often, too, you may 
hear, from travellers who have visited the remotest 
parts of the earth, perhaps thrilling accounts of 



Summer Climate at tbe Xafce 23 



o 



leopard, and tiger-hunts in the jungle, blood-curdling 
tales of treachery and massacre, or daring exploits 
in the Indian wars. 

In May or early June the ice breaks up, and the 
forests near the lake are free from snow. The sum- 
mer climate is cool and the highest temperature ever 
recorded is 78 degrees. The altitude above sea, 
as near as I could determine from a series of baro- 
metrical observations, is 5643 feet. The nights are 
always cool, and sometimes a frost occurs even in 
July or August. At daybreak the lake is usually 
placid and reflects, like a great mirror, the mountains 
and wooded shores, but so soon as the summer sun 
has tempered the frosty air the breezes begin to stir, 
at first imperceptibly in gentle zephyrs, which touch 
the motionless water some distance down the lake. 
Then rippled places appear, enlarge very quickly, 
and presently make a continuous band across the 
lake. One end of the lake may thus remain under 
the influence of wind for an hour or more while the 
other is quiet, but the strength of the breezes con- 
tinues to grow as the sun gains power, till at noon 
the entire lake is almost invariably covered with lit- 
tle whitecaps. The wind dies away after sunset, 
and by midnight a frosty calm settles once more 
upon the lake. Then the roar of the glacial stream, 
a mile and a half distant, unheard by day, becomes 
plainly audible in the quiet night air. 

The approach of storms is announced by wisps 
of cirrus cloud which move from west to east and 



24 Gbe IRocfties of Canaba 

presently make a hazy veil which partially obscures 
the sun. A soft wind blows from the south-west, 
while the smoke of forest fires increases and adds to 
the bluish haze. Sometimes this smoke is laden 
with white ash-flakes, which may have travelled 
hundreds of miles from fires on the Pacific coast, or 
in the Kootenay country, and the distant mountains 
often withdraw from sight in a bluish obscurity. 
The first rain usually commences in a thunder-storm, 
which comes crashing through the mountains with 
its accompaniment of wind and hail, leaving the 
forests moist, and the peaks hung with clinging 
mists. A violent storm at night among these mount- 
ains is one of the most inspiring phenomena of na- 
ture. A continuous roar from the forest, stirred by 
the gale, mingled with the crash of conquered trees, 
is momentarily lost in thunder, echoed and rolled 
back from rock cliffs and mountain sides. A hoarse 
murmur, which is not the roar of ocean surf, but the 
lesser voice of a small mountain lake lashed to fury, 
comes from the shore. 

The gloom of these night storms is followed by a 
period of calm, not less impressive in majestic reve- 
lations. At such times dawn shows the clouds low 
on the mountains, sulking, as it were, before the 
coming victory of the sun. The rising sun awakens 
uncertain movements in the motionless mist, and 
causes moist air currents to ascend and form new 
clouds, while others descend in counter currents, 
spin out into wisps of fog, and disappear again like 



Xigbt Effects anfc Colour Allusions 25 

cloud ghosts into thin air. Suddenly a mountain, 
covered with a mantle of fresh snow, appears above 
the rolling masses, and the sun, breaking through, 
pours a shaft of light that in its long pathway leaps 
from mountains and clouds to fall into the lake. 
Changeable breezes make ripples on the calm water, 
then cease, only to breathe upon another place like 
the last dying gasps of storm. 

The first two or three days after a severe rain are 
more beautiful than any others. It is impossible to 
tell or paint the beautiful colours, the kaleidoscopic 
change of light and shade, under such conditions. 
They are so exquisite that one refuses to believe 
them even in their presence, so subtle in change, so 
infinite in variety, that the memory fails to recall 
their varying moods. I have seen twenty shades of 
green, and several of blue, in the waters of Lake 
Louise at one time. Sometimes in the evening, 
when the quantity of light is rapidly diminishing, 
and the lake lies calm, or partly tremulous with dy- 
ing ripples, marked vertically by the reflections of 
cliffs and trees, there is a light green in the shallow- 
est water of the east shore, a more vivid colour a little 
farther out, and then a succession of deeper shades 
merging one into another by imperceptible change, 
yet in irregular patches according to the depth of 
water, to the deep bluish-green and blue of the mid- 
dle lake. The eye wanders from place to place and 
comes back a few moments later to where the bright- 
est colours were, but no doubt they are gone now, 



26 Zbe IRocfues of Canaba 

and the mirror surface is dulled by a puff of air, while 
the sharp reflections have been replaced by purple 
shadows, or the obscure repetitions of the red brown 
cliffs above the water. It may be that a day, a year, 
or possibly a century will pass before those identical 
glories of colour will come again. 

Among many marvellous effects of light and colour, 
one that occurred on a September afternoon remains 
distinct in my memory. The sky immediately over- 
head was clear, but massive clouds were brooding 
above the snowy crest of Mt. Victoria. A mysteri- 
ous calm pervaded the cool air, and the water lay 
tremulous with that gentle motion which is the final 
pulsing of ripples before utter quiet settles on a 
sleeping lake. The distant valley and the farther 
reaches of water were obscured by a gloomy shade 
of motionless clouds. An arching band of light 
bathed their edges in brilliant silver, overleapt the 
dark curtain, and descending, fell into the abyss of 
water near the north shore, to develop there a poison- 
ous looking green colour, intensely strong in com- 
parison with the darkness beyond. The sun's rays 
breaking through the clouds threw light on various 
parts of the lake, steeping in vivid sea-green the 
tawny reflections of iron-stained cliffs and the bril- 
liant yellows of autumn willows and larches, only to 
bury them again in shadow. The lake seemed like 
a great basin filled with liquid under magic spell, 
where the quietly changing sunbeams resembled 
an enchanter's wand, which at the lightest touch 



Hn ©ctober IDtsit to Xafte Xouise 27 

produced wonderful colourings and weird effects in 
the uncertain light. 

I once made an interesting visit to Lake Louise in 
October. The previous September had been a month 
of disagreeable weather and continuous snow-storms. 
Then followed, as often happens in the Canadian 
Rockies, a month or more of bright weather which is 
the true Indian summer and has peculiar charms of 
its own. I could not resist the temptation, as the 
morning train approached the station of Laggan, to 
improve an excellent opportunity for another study 
of Lake Louise. Sunrise had been unusually bril- 
liant and there was every prospect of a fine day. 
After breakfast at the station-house I set forth on 
the hard frozen road towards the lake. I carried 
lunch in my pocket, and an ever faithful camera 
strapped to my shoulders, while for a companion 
I coaxed an idle dog to accompany me. The air was 
cold, and the feeble October sun had not as yet 
struck into the forest and removed the frost from 
moss and fallen leaves. In somewhat less than an 
hour I arrived at the lake. All was deserted ; the 
chalet closed, the keeper gone, and the lake restored 
to primeval solitude. Of insect life there was none, 
for the busy swarms of bull-dogs and mosquitoes 
had been annihilated by nights of frost, or else were 
hibernating till another season. Most all of the 
flowers were withered and frost-bitten, the deciduous 
bushes, but lately decked in gay autumn colours, 
were scattering dead leaves on the ground, while the 



28 Zhe IRocfties of Canada 

larches far up on the mountains marked a band of 
pale yellow between the green spruces and the bare 
slopes above tree line. However, the greater part 
of Rocky Mountain plants are evergreen, so that the 
spruces, balsams, and pines, no less than the under- 
growth of heaths and mosses, find a way of defying 
winter by wearing a garb of perpetual summer. 

The lake rested motionless and half lighted by 
the early morning sun. There is rarely much sky 
colouring at sunrise or sunset in these mountains. 
The dry atmosphere, especially at this season, has 
little power to dissolve the white light into rainbow 
hues and produce those deep and richly varied colours 
which occur in lowland regions or on the sea. The 
tints are pure, clear, and cold like the air itself. They 
are merely delicate shades or colour suggestions 
which recall those faint but exquisite hues seen in 
topaz, transparent quartz, or tourmaline crystals, in 
which the minutest trace of some foreign mineral has 
created rare spectrum colours and imprisoned them 
there for ever. This morning the snowy mountain 
tops were tinted a clear pink beautifully contrasted 
against an intensely blue sky. 

My breath rose straight upwards in the calm air. 
The mirror surface of the lake was disturbed by some 
wild fowl — black ducks and northern divers — which 
frequent the lake at this season. Their splashings 
and the harsh cries of the divers came faintly over 
the water. It seemed strange that these familiar 
haunts could become so fearfully wild and lonely 



28 

d a band of 

I the bare 

part 

the 

is and 
aring a 
. restec ted by 

rly morning 
mring at sunrise 

itmosphen has 

ower to dissolve thi 
id produce those deei a id r. J 

tints are pure, clear, and cold like the air itself. They 
merely delicate shades or colour suggestions 
h recall those faint but isite hues seen in 



hai 



transparent quartz, 








the minutest 1 
























tintec 








• 














e lake 






over 
familiar 

lonely 



Hn Etmlancbe from fIDt %efro\> 29 

merely because man had resigned his claims to the 
place. Suddenly a wild, unearthly wail, from across 
the water, the cry of a loon, which is one of the 
most melancholy of all sounds, startled me and 
abruptly ended my reverie on solitude. 

Accordingly I walked down the north shore of 
the lake with the intention of going several miles up 
the valley and taking some photographs of Mt Le- 
froy. The flat, bushy meadows near the upper end 
of the lake were cold, and all the plants and reedy 
grass were white with frost. The towering cliffs 
and castle-like battlements of the mountains on the 
south side of the valley shut out the sun and pro- 
mised to prevent its genial rays from warming this 
spot till late in the afternoon. In the frozen ground 
I saw the tracks of a bear, made probably the day 
before. Bruin had gone up the valley somewhere 
and had not returned, so there was the possibility of 
making his acquaintance. 

I was well repaid for my visit by seeing a magni- 
ficent avalanche fall from Mt. Lefroy, a rock mount- 
ain which rises in vertical cliffs between two branches 
of a glacier encircling its base. A hanging glacier 
rests on the highest slope of the mountain and forms 
a vertical face of ice over two hundred feet thick at 
the top of a precipice. At intervals, sometimes of 
days or weeks, masses of ice break from the hang- 
ing glacier and fall with thundering crashes to the 
valley. 

I was standing at a point about two miles distant 



30 Gbe IRocfties of Canada 

when, from the vertical ice-wall, a fragment of the 
glacier, representing its entire thickness, broke away, 
and, turning slowly, began to fall through the airy 
abyss. In a few seconds of continued silence, for no 
sound had yet reached me, the heavy mass struck a 
projecting ledge, after falling half a thousand feet, 
and there was shivered into innumerable pieces and 
clouds of powdered ice, as though it had been rent by 
some great explosion. Simultaneously came the 
first thundering roar of the avalanche. Then for two 
thousand feet more the greater masses of ice led the 
way, leaping from ledge to ledge, some of them whirl- 
ing round in mid-air, while others shot downwards 
like meteors, trailing behind snowy streams brushed 
off in their awful flight. In a long succession of 
white curtains resembling a splendid waterfall, the 
smallest particles followed after. The loud crash 
which signalled the first destruction of the icy mass 
now grew into a prolonged thunder, mingled with 
explosive reports of bursting fragments as they 
collided in mid-air or dashed against projecting parts 
of the precipice. It was like the sound of battle, 
where the clash of arms and the sharp crack of 
rifles are accompanied by a continuous roar of 
artillery. 

The north face of Mt. Lefroy is a practically ver- 
tical cliff twenty-five hundred feet from base to top. 
Imagine then a precipice sixteen times higher than 
Niagara, at the top of which stands a hanging glac- 
ier crevassed into yawning caverns, ever moving 



a Warning of Minter'0 Hpproacb 31 

resistlessly forwards and threatening at any time to 
launch tremendous masses of ice into the valley 
below. Such avalanches are among the most thrilling 
spectacles of nature. The majestically slow move- 
ment of these masses as they commence to fall is a 
measure of much greater heights and depths than the 
eye, deceived by the clear mountain air, can at first 
appreciate. The first movements of these avalanches 
proceed in total silence, and the ice may fall a thous- 
and feet or more while the sound is travelling the 
intervening distance, to awaken echoes among the 
cliffs and startle the mountaineer. I have often 
noticed that the thunder of avalanches from Mt. 
Victoria requires twenty seconds to reach the chalet, 
so that by that time there is often nothing but a 
white cloud to indicate what has occurred. 

I got back to Lake Louise again about one o'clock. 
A local breeze made a narrow lane of ripples in the 
midst of a surface otherwise perfectly calm. This 
was one of those rare days when the lake is undis- 
turbed by wind at midday under a clear sky, for the 
wind generally comes and goes with the rising and 
setting of the sun. The morning chill had been 
tempered by the October sun and a few forest birds 
were flitting silently among the trees, but the flowers 
and butterflies of summer were no more. It seemed 
the last expiring effort of autumn, when at any time 
a sudden storm might wrap the landscape in snow 
and bind the lake with ice. Even at this warmest 
time of day the feeble sun rays seemed unable to 



34 Gbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

organised in 1894, and met at Lake Louise in July. 
One member of our party was an enthusiastic 
hunter, another eager for the glories of mountain 
climbing, one was a disciple of Daguerre, while the 
two others were ready to join almost any undertak- 
ing whatever. Yandell Henderson, Lewis Frissell, 
and I were the first to meet at Lake Louise, but we 
had not been there long before our spirits were 
cheered by the arrival of our friend George Warring- 
ton. After a few preliminary excursions had been 
made, to get in condition for more arduous trips, 
Samuel Allen, with whom 1 had made several 
mountain ascents in previous years, completed our 
party towards the middle of July. 

A common purpose helped the unity of our work, 
which was to explore the region immediately around 
Lake Louise, to ascend some high peaks, and to ob- 
tain photographs of the scenery. Through Warring- 
ton's ingenuity in contriving a winding reel, the lake 
was sounded and then mapped and contoured. 
Henderson added to our larder by his skill with a 
rifle, while the rest of us climbed mountains and 
made maps. 

Our first excursion, and one that nowadays is 
very popular with visitors, was to Lake Agnes. A 
trail leaves the chalet, and by a course of zigzags 
through the forest ascends the sloping mountain 
west of the lake. The tall coniferous trees cast a 
cool shade and shut out the mountain world till an 
ascent of a thousand feet has been made. An older 



r 













Zochles 



* re r 



in July. 

msiastic 

lountain 

lile the 

rtak- 



10- 

i trips, 



with wl 
ascents in p; 

MM&k 1k$tM$$kl Lefroyfro?n Mount Niblock. 

A common purpose helped th work, 

which was to explore the region immediately around 

Lake Louise, to ascend nd to ob- 

photographsoft irring- 

igenuity in con ! ke 

ainded ai 

ma 



cast a 

till an 
i older 



alpine Jflowers 35 

trail then leads off to the right and presently comes 
out on a bare slope, swept of trees years ago by a 
winter snow-slide. A wonderful view is here dis- 
closed. Mirror Lake, a small pool, is several hundred 
feet below, shut off from breezes by an encircling 
forest and a great cliff called the Beehive, whose ta- 
pering form and horizontal bands of red and grey 
rocks suggest its name. On the right of the Bee- 
hive, Lake Agnes appears, partly concealed by Ly- 
all's larch, and from it comes a cascade that dashes 
over rocky ledges down to Mirror Lake. Mt. Lefroy 
and Mt. Aberdeen across the valley seem far higher 
than they did twelve hundred feet below. Where the 
avalanche has swept away the forest trees, a growth 
of bushes and herbs has restored the green colour to 
the mountain side and added beauty to it by means 
of a multitude of Alpine flowers. The great mount- 
ain anemone, showing rigid white flowers, and com- 
pound leaves divided again and again into fern-like 
tracery, grows here among the rocks. It should be 
called the snow-flower, for it is the first to awaken 
at the touch of spring and bloom at the edges 
of melting snow-banks. I have seen their burst- 
ing buds surrounded by an inch of snow ready to 
open in to-morrow's sun. Sometimes the great 
anemone blossoms in August or September on Al- 
pine highlands, where perhaps the snows of winter 
have been unusually deep, and a false spring comes 
in autumn when the belated meadows are at last 
uncovered. This plant bears a tufted bunch of 



36 Gbe IRocMes of Canaba 

plumed seeds which, at full development, is twelve 
or eighteen inches above the ground, and these tas- 
seled heads make a conspicuous display in every 
high mountain meadow. 

Somebody has said that edelweiss and Scotch 
heather grow on this slope. There are two plants 
resembling them, one an antennaria, and the other a 
heath called bryanthus, which has small purple 
blossoms remarkably like the Scotch heather. Why 
does not somebody import the seeds or roots of the 
Swiss edelweiss and plant them here ? Then, as in 
the Alps, lovers can risk broken limbs to show their 
devotion. These Canadian Rockies have the grand- 
eur and beauty of the Alps, but need their romance 
and poetry, picturesque mountain villages, cattle 
pasturing on the upland meadows, or the calls of 
the shepherd and yodel to awaken the forest echoes. 

The trail, which is soon lost among the attrac- 
tions of this place by anyone not devoting his atten- 
tion to it, appears again on the farther side of the 
avalanche track. It makes a dizzy course along the 
face of moss-fringed cliffs, glistening in places with 
spring-water. Spruce trees have established a foot- 
ing wherever there is the slightest opportunity, often 
on the very edge of the precipice, so that their 
spreading branches lean far out from the cliff, and 
their bare roots, like writhing serpents, are flattened 
in narrow fractures of the rocks. These wooden 
anchors have safely outlived a thousand mountain 
storms and may see as many more. 



Xafce Hsnes 37 

Lake Agnes is a wild tarn imprisoned by cheer- 
less cliffs. At one end there is a narrow fringe of 
trees, but the lake on either side is bordered by 
barren angular stones, where nothing grows. Its 
northward exposure and the towering walls of a 
great amphitheatre keep out the sun and allow the 
snow to linger here all summer. One year the ice 
did not melt away till the end of July, and a thin 
sheet of ice often forms on clear summer nights. I 
have seen the lake covered with winter ice again in 
October. This lake is about one-third of a mile in 
length. The water is green, and, coming as it does 
from melting snow and springs, is so clear that the 
rough bottom may be seen at great depths. It is 
almost the only rock-basin lake that I have seen in 
the mountains and, like all other lakes that have not 
been sounded, it is fathomless. 

The solitary visitor to the lake is soon oppressed 
with a sensation of utter loneliness. All these sur- 
roundings are desolate and a perpetual silence reigns, 
except for the sound of a rivulet falling over rocky 
ledges on one side. The faint pattering, echoed by 
opposite cliffs, seems to fill the air with a murmur 
which is faint or distinct at the mercy of fickle 
breezes. The elusive sound starts from every side, 
or dies away into nothing, and seems almost superna- 
tural because the ear is powerless to tell whence it 
comes. The shrill whistle of a marmot, the hoary 
badger of the Rockies, often breaks this unwonted 
silence in a startling manner. Once a visitor to the 



38 Zhe IRocfcies of Canafca 

lake cut short his stay and hurried back to the 
chalet upon hearing one of these loud whistles, which 
he thought must be the signal of robbers or Indians 
about to commence an attack. 

Many excursions of interest may be made on this 
mountain side, but none commands a finer panorama 
of the surrounding region than the top of a rock 
buttress called the Little Beehive. This is half a 
mile north of Lake Agnes and is merely a knob upon 
a greater mountain. Vertical precipices form the side 
towards Lake Louise, but there is a flat top of several 
acres extent covered with a most beautiful growth of 
the scraggly Lyall's larch, whose feathery needles 
merely filter but do not interrupt the streaming sun- 
light. A generous share comes to the huckleberry 
bushes and Labrador tea which grow underneath. 
They need all they get, for it is a long way north 
here, besides being seventy-five hundred feet above 
sea-level, where snow falls every month of the year 
and the air is warm only at midday. To the north- 
west you may see a lake near the source of the Bow 
River, Mt. Hector, towering like an uplifted castle 
eleven thousand feet above sea-level, standing be- 
tween this valley and the Pipestone, then far away 
eastwards beyond Pilot Mountain (formerly a land- 
mark for the surveyors) thirty miles down the Bow 
valley, and finally a nearer mass of giant peaks to the 
south-east and south, which are strangers to us yet, 
together with the now familiar peaks of Mt. Lefroy 
and Mt. Victoria. I have never seen this glorious 



3 8 I Canafca 

: to the 
as, which 
or Indians 

on this 

mo - ma 

of 1 

buttress called the 

north of Lake A ^ n 

a greater mountain. ie s ^ e 

towards Lake Louise, but tl ral 

covered with a 
gly Lyall's larch, w 
merely filter bu¥W J^(^r^^ e Beehve - 
light. A generous share comes to the huckleberry 
bushes and Labrador tea which grow underneath. 
They need all they get, for it is a long way north 
here, besides being seventy-five above 

snow falls ev< 
warm only at m 
we ay see a lake near th 

River, Mt. Hector, towering 
eleven thousand feet abo -level, 

tween this valley and peston vay 

Is beyond Pilot Mountain md- 

surve hirty miles tow 

nearer mass of g the 

,t and south, which are stra yet, 

with the now t Lefroy 

loria. I h lorious 



Gbe Victoria (Slacier 39 

ensemble of forests, lakes, and snow fields surpassed 
in an experience on the summits of more than forty 
peaks and the middle slopes of as many more in the 
Canadian Rockies. And the best part of it all is, 
that a most indifferent climber can easily reach this 
place and, with care, a horse might be led to the 
summit. 

Before our party was complete, Henderson, Fris- 
sell, and 1 made an excursion to Mt. Lefroy, which 
gave us more caution ever after and nearly resulted 
fatally for one of us. After crossing the lake in a 
boat, we ascended the valley for a mile to the end of 
a glacier which is the source of the Lake Louise 
stream. This glacier is formed from two branches, 
one of which fills the valley between Mt. Aberdeen 
and Mt. Lefroy, while the other comes from a narrow 
canyon called the Death Trap. Thus Mt. Lefroy 
stands like a precipitous island in a sea of ice. We 
crossed the muddy glacial stream and after climbing 
the sharp-edged moraine descended upon the glacier. 
This glacier is about three miles in length by half a 
mile wide. Its upper part, or neve, is comparatively 
clear, but many stones cumber the ice at its lower 
end, increasing ever towards the snout, till at length 
this dirtiest glacier of the Rockies ends dismally and 
indefinitely, buried beyond recognition in a confused 
moraine. The burden which the glacier carries is a 
mass of limestones and shales, which have fallen from 
the cliffs up the valley and are being slowly trans- 
ported to the terminal moraine. You may walk 



42 Zbc IRocfties of Cana&a 

end was fastened round his waist, and the other 
round mine. With an ice-axe buried to the head in 
the snow as an anchor, I paid out the rope and low- 
ered our helpless friend fully fifty feet. Then Hen- 
derson went down and, anchoring himself in like 
manner, held him while I came down. This opera- 
tion, repeated a number of times, brought us soon 
upon the comparatively level glacier. Removing my 
coat for him to lie on, I started to the chalet for aid. 
Heedless of crevasses, over the crumbling moraine 
and rough stones to the trail around the lake, run- 
ning at all times except in the very roughest places, 
I covered in seventy minutes what had required three 
hours to walk in the morning. Arrived at the chalet 
completely exhausted, I hoped to find sufficient aid 
there to make up a relief party, but, as ill luck would 
have it, only Joe Savage, the cook, was at the chalet. 
Mr. Astley, the manager, and two Indians, Tom 
Chiniquay and William Twin, were on the mount- 
ain near Mirror Lake. So while Savage got poles 
and canvas ready for a litter, I commenced a tiring 
climb for the others. Coming at length upon Wil- 
liam, where he was cutting out a trail, I addressed 
him in the Indian way of speaking English : "Wil- 
liam, three white men go up big snow mountain. 
Big stone come down — hurt one man. I think Tom, 
Mr. Astley, you, all go up snow mountain — bring 
white man back." William asked, " Kill him ? " but 
his face showed anxiety till I told him that our friend 
was still alive, though he must hurry. Dropping his 



a IReturn for Hit) 43 

axe, he ran off for the others who were higher upon 
the mountain, while I returned to the chalet and 
made ready some food and whiskey. Thus a relief 
party of four was soon started. 

On the back of an Indian cayuse I galloped away 
to Laggan and telegraphed for Dr. Brett to come from 
Banff. Then to division headquarters, " How much 
for a special engine from Banff to Laggan ? " The 
reply was in terms too high for our purse, and I 
arranged for a hand-car crew to bring up the doctor. 
The distance is thirty-six miles and there is a stiff 
grade with a total ascent of five hundred feet. 

Meanwhile the rest of the party on the glacier, 
seeing me disappear about three o'clock beyond a 
swelling mound of ice, were left to pass the tedious 
hours in lonely contemplation. On a hot summer 
day a glacier is a fairly comfortable place abounding 
in cool breezes and bright sunshine. A decided 
change, however, takes place immediately after the 
sun disappears, as it soon did here, behind Mt. Vic- 
toria. Ice-needles formed on the pools, the genial 
breezes ceased, and a penetrating draught came 
down from the higher places. The long hours 
rolled by and still no sign of aid appeared. In 
imagination they recounted the possibility of its 
never arriving, thinking that I might have fallen into 
a crevasse, or sprained my ankle while on the 
moraine, and that no one would ever think of com- 
ing to them. At length in desperation they made a 
plan to leave the glacier by the shortest way, at 



44 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

whatever risk to life or limb, rather than die of cold 
on this cheerless sea of ice, but before such plans 
were carried out they discovered, with a field-glass, 
a boat leaving the far end of Lake Louise. In half 
an hour the boat had crossed the lake, and then for 
an hour or so no further sign of help was seen. 
Suddenly four moving figures appeared like black 
dots in the distance and they knew that a rescue 
party was coming at last. At seven o'clock, or more 
than four hours after the accident, our injured com- 
panion commenced his journey to the chalet in a 
litter hastily constructed and which, at best, only 
served to lift him a little above the ground. William 
observed his woebegone appearance and heard his 
groans with concern, but with true Indian lack of 
tact, frequently during the painful journey enter- 
tained the invalid as follows : " You think you die ? 
Me think so too." 

While Frissell was regaining health and strength 
we made several expeditions to the adjacent valleys, 
and, among others, one of them proved the most de- 
lightful that I have ever taken in this region. We 
as yet knew nothing of the mountains east and 
south of Lake Louise. Certain glimpses of a valley 
beyond Mt. Aberdeen and Mt. Lefroy had been caught 
in our various climbs, but they gave only imperfect 
ideas of the geography of all that region. To push 
our exploration into this new and doubtless attractive 
place seemed a most desirable thing. Our plan was to 
explore the Lefroy glacier and force a passage, if 



ascent of a Snow pass 45 

possible, over a snow pass eastwards, where, no 
doubt, all this unknown region would lie before us. 
Accordingly one day near the first of August our 
party of four might have been seen traversing in 
Alpine fashion the ice-fields near Mt. Lefroy. This 
entire valley, which is more than seven thousand 
feet above sea-level, is filled with glacier ice and per- 
petual snow. From the entire absence of trees or 
vegetation of any kind it is impossible to judge dis- 
tance and heights of mountains in this place. It is a 
veritable canyon, of magnificent though desolate 
grandeur, with the bare limestone slopes of Mt. 
Aberdeen on the north, and on the other side the 
north face of Mt. Lefroy, which has a total height of 
nearly four thousand feet from the glacier. At the 
valley end there stands a curious pointed mountain, 
shaped like a bishop's mitre, and on either side of 
this there is a col, or snow pass, one of which we 
hoped to ascend. 

As we were marching over the glacier, which 
was covered with snow and therefore somewhat 
dangerous, Warrington, who was third on the rope, 
suddenly broke through the frail bridge of a crevasse. 
" I could hear," he afterwards told us, "the noise of 
snow falling under my feet and the gurgling of water 
at the bottom of the depths over which I was sus- 
pended." We pulled him out of this dangerous 
place without anyone else getting in, and reached 
the foot of the snow passes without further accident. 
The one on our left seemed easier of slope than the 



46 Gbe IRockies of Canafca 

other. It was very soon apparent that we had a 
considerable amount of work before us. Allen led 
the way cutting steps in the snow, for the slope was 
very steep and we had no desire to slide into one of 
the great crevasses which made the place formid- 
able. We crossed some of these treacherous 
caverns by means of snow bridges, but others we 
were compelled to pass around, and in such places 
had inspiring views of blue grottos hung with 
dripping icicles. From the darkness of these yawn- 
ing death-traps came the sound of sub-glacial 
streams. 

After three hours of slow and tiring work we had 
climbed only one thousand feet. It was a cloudy 
day with a damp and cheerless atmosphere, and at 
this altitude of eight thousand feet there were occa- 
sional showers of hail and snow. Chilled by the 
long exposure and the necessary slowness of our 
progress, every member of the party became silent 
and depressed. It seems to me that the circulation 
of the blood has much to do with the mental state 
and that courage depends in a large measure on the 
pulse. The panting soldier will face a cannon's 
mouth, but dreads unseen danger when chilled by 
night watching. 

To judge by our surroundings alone, we might 
have been exploring some lonely polar land, for our 
entire view was limited by high mountains covered 
with glaciers and snow and altogether barren of 
vegetation. At such times you wonder why you 



2>ieco\>ers of a IRew Dalle? 47 

came. Why not stay at home and be comfortable ? 
Every climber feels such temporary repulses, when 
the game is not worth the candle and he decides 
once for all to give up mountain climbing. Like the 
ancients vowing sacrifices and temples to the gods 
in the thick of battle or on the point of shipwreck, 
which vows they forgot very speedily when they 
arrived at safety, the mountaineer forgets his re- 
solves under the genial influence of hot Scotch and 
a comfortable camp. These Rockies have many sur- 
prises for the explorer, and there was one in store 
for us. 

We sought temporary rest on an outcropping 
ledge and tried to regain some strength by eating 
lunch. The summit of our pass now seemed only a 
short distance above, but we had been deceived so 
many times on this interminable slope that we put 
no faith in our eyes. Recommencing our climb at 
a quicker pace, for the slope was easier and we 
were most anxious to see the view eastwards, we 
were soon near the summit. The last few steps to a 
mountain pass are attended by a pleasurable excite- 
ment equalled only by the conquest of a new 
mountain. The curtain is about to be raised, as it 
were, on a new scene and the reward of many 
hours of climbing comes at one magical revelation. 

Arrived on the summit of our pass, 8500 feet above 
sea-level, we saw a new group of mountains in the 
distance, while a most beautiful valley lay far below 
us. Throughout a broad expanse of meadows and 



48 Gbe IRocfciee of Canafca 

open country many streams were to be seen winding 
through this valley, clearly traceable to their vari- 
ous sources in glaciers, springs, and melting snow- 
drifts. With all its diversity of features spread like a 
map before our eyes, this attractive place was seen 
to be closely invested on the south by a semicircle 
of high and rugged mountains, rising steeply from a 
crescent-shaped glacier at their united bases. The 
encircling mountains extending then to the left, 
hemmed in the far side of the valley in an irregular 
line of peaks, to terminate, so far as we could see, in 
a double-pointed mountain with two summits about 
one mile apart. The strata of this mountain had 
been fashioned by ages of exposure into innumerable 
forms of beauty, like imitations of minarets, pinna- 
cles, and graceful spires. The mountain itself resem- 
bled a splendid building, with nature as architect, the 
frost and rain for sculptors. Its outlines showed a 
combination of gentle slopes and vertical ledges like 
the alternating roofs and walls of a cathedral. On 
one side of this mountain, where nature had evi- 
dently striven to surpass all other efforts, there rose 
from the middle slopes a number of slender stone 
columns, apparently several hundred feet high. They 
were strange monuments of the past which had sur- 
vived earthquake shocks and outlived the warring 
elements while nature continued her work. Com- 
pared with these columns, the pyramids of Egypt, 
the palaces of Yucatan, and the temples of India are 
young, even in their antiquity. 



4 8 






;anaba 



ifore 



to be 
ofhk 



■n winding 

I heir vari- 

ngsnow- 

iread like a 

was seen 

rcle 

om a 

The 

e left, 

>;ular 

mits about 



ihaped glaci 

rcling mountains ( 
hemmed in the far side 
line of peaks, to terminate, 
a double-pointed mountain wit 
one mile apart. The strata of 

been fashioijg&S^^ 

forms of beauty, like imitations of minarets, pinna- 
cles, and graceful spires. The mountain itself resem- 
bled a splendid building, with nature as architect, the 
frost and rain for sculptors. 

f gentle slopes a 
oofs and wall 
one side of this mountain, where 
dently striven to surpass all o 
from the middle slopes a 
columns, apparently se\ 
trange monumen 
thquake s 
nents while 
I 

tl 



like 
On 

jse 
one 

They 
sur- 
ring 

Com- 

Sgypt, 

diaare 



2>tecoven> of a IRew IDallc? 49 

At the time of our arrival on the summit, a sudden 
change took place in the weather. The wind came 
from another quarter, and the monotonous covering 
of grey clouds began to disclose blue sky in many 
places. The afternoon sun poured shafts of light 
through the moving clouds, and awakened bright 
colours over forests, meadows, and streams. 

1 This beautiful scene opened before us so suddenly 
that for a time the cliffs echoed to our exclamations 
of pleasure, while those who had recently been most 
depressed in spirit were now most vehement in ex- 
pressions of delight. A short time before no one 
could be found to assume the responsibility of such a 
foolhardy trip, but now each member of our party 
had been the proposer of this glorious excursion. We 
spent a half-hour on the pass, and divided our work 
so that while one took photographs of the scene, 
another took angles of prominent points for our map, 
and the rest built a cairn to celebrate our ascent of 
the pass. 

It was decided, by each one no doubt to himself, 
but at any rate by the party unanimously, to explore 
this new valley whatever should be the result. 
Though it was late in the afternoon and there was 
small chance of reaching the chalet that night, the 
desolate valley behind repelled, while the new one 
seemed to bid us enter. 

Fortunately, a long snow slope led far into the 
valley from the pass. This we prepared to descend 
by glissading, all roped together, because one or two 



50 Jibe IRocMes of Canaba 

of our party were undergoing their first Alpine ex- 
periences. The slope was pretty steep, and we were 
just well under way in our descent, when someone 
lost his footing and commenced to slide at such speed 
that the end man was jerked violently by the rope, 
and lost his ice-axe as he fell headlong. With con- 
sternation very evident on their faces, our two com- 
rades came rolling and sliding downwards, head first, 
foot first, sometimes one leading, and sometimes the 
other. Their momentum was too much for the rest 
of us and, even with our ice-axes well set in the soft 
snow,' we all slid some distance in a bunch. Owing 
to the complicated figures executed in our descent, it 
required several minutes to unwind the tangled ropes 
in which we were caught. Then a committee of 
one was appointed to go back and gather the scat- 
tered hats, ice-axes, and such other personal effects as 
could be found. 

In a short time we had descended fifteen hundred 
feet to the valley bottom. We had thus in a few 
moments exchanged the cold and dreary upper re- 
gions for the genial warmth of summer. Humboldt 
says : " In the physical as in the moral world, the con- 
trast of effects, the comparison of what is powerful 
and menacing with what is soft and peaceful, is a 
never-failing source of our pleasures and our emo- 
tions. " By our rapid change of altitude we had passed 
through all gradations of climate from polar to tem- 
perate, and now found ourselves surrounded by 
meadows of rich grass, gay with the wild flowers of 



]£yploration of a ©eligbtful IRegion 51 

midsummer, and open groves where squirrels were 
chattering, and the wild conies and other rodents 
were staring at us as we passed along. There were 
not a few mosquitoes in evidence also. 

We followed a small stream and saw it finally 
grow into a river. Pursuing our way with rapid 
steps, like adventurers in nature's fairyland, where 
every moment reveals new wonders, we came at 
length to an opening in the forest, where the falling 
stream dashed among great stones strewn in wild 
disorder. They were colossal fragments of sandstone 
hewn by nature into angular blocks and poised one 
upon another as though they were ready to fall from 
their insecure positions. After several hours of walk- 
ing, the stream became a large, muddy torrent which 
swung from right to left every hundred yards or so, 
and was now too wide and deep to cross. 

The tremendous cliffs of Mt. Temple, one of the 
highest of the Canadian Rockies, guard the east side 
of this valley. For the space of three miles its preci- 
pices present an uninterrupted wall of rock, four 
thousand feet from base to top and a total height of 
five thousand feet from the valley. Henderson and 
I led the way, and at length lost sight of the others, 
who preferred a slower pace after such unusual exer- 
tions. In the early evening we came to a swampy 
place, beyond which we recognised the broad open- 
ing of the Bow valley. Here we waited some time 
for our friends, who were a long way behind, and 
then at length wrote a note and fastened it to a pole 



52 Gbe IRocFues of Canafca 

in a conspicuous place. It read : " We are going to 
climb the ridge to the north and try to make the 
chalet to-night. Advise you to follow us." On the 
top of the pole we cut a slit and pointed a splinter of 
wood in the exact direction we were to take. 

Having accomplished these duties in the best 
manner possible and in spite of innumerable swarms 
of mosquitoes from the swamp, we walked at our 
best speed, not relishing the prospect of a cheerless 
bivouac overnight after our long fast. Encountering 
the usual obstacles of fallen timber, we reached Lake 
Louise, by good fortune, at eight o'clock. After 
shouting in vain for someone to send over a boat, 
we forded the stream and entered the chalet, where 
a sumptuous repast was prepared forthwith and to 
which we did justice after our walk of twelve hours' 
duration. 

Our friends did not appear till morning. It seems 
that they discovered our note, but decided not to 
take our route as they thought it safer to follow the 
stream to the Bow. This, however, proved much 
farther than it appeared, and they had not proceeded 
far before they became entangled in a large area of 
fallen timber, where they were soon overtaken by 
night and compelled to give up all hope of reaching 
Lake Louise till morning. In the dark forest they lit 
a small fire, and were at first tormented by mosqui- 
toes, and later by the chill of advancing night, so 
that sleep was impossible. The utter weariness of 
exhaustion, embittered by hunger and sleeplessness, 



llnMan Sarcasm 53 

amid clouds of voracious mosquitoes, was only off- 
set by the contents of a flask, with which they 
endeavoured to revive their drooping spirits and nour- 
ish the feeble spark of life till dawn. Fortunately 
the nights in this latitude are short, and at four 
o'clock they continued their way to the Bow River, 
which they then followed to Laggan. 

A week later, a little column of smoke was seen 
rising from the woods toward the east, and from Lag- 
gan it was reported that a large area of the forest was 
on fire. Some pointed the finger of scorn at us and 
held our party responsible. William Twin, our 
Indian friend, said, " Me think two white men light 
him fire," to which we replied that this was impos- 
sible as the fire had broken out nearly a week after 
our visit. William then met our arguments with 
this sarcastic fling: " Oh no, white man no light 
fire. Me think sun light him.'' 

A gang of section men with axes and water- 
buckets was immediately despatched from Laggan 
to fight the fire, which, thanks to the weather, did 
not prove very serious and was extinguished in two 
days. 



CHAPTER IV 

AN UPLAND MEADOW — VIEW OF MT. TEMPLE — WE 
PLACE OUR CAMP IN PARADISE VALLEY — DIFFICULTIES 
OF TRAVERSING THE PATHLESS FOREST — A MARVELLOUS 
SOMERSAULT — THE UPPER END OF PARADISE VALLEY — 
DISCORDANT FLOWER COLOURS — THE FIREWEED — THE 
SPRUCE AND BALSAM — THE BLACK PINE AND WHITE- 
BARKED PINE — THE LYALL'S LARCH — ITS ENDURANCE OF 
COLD AND STORMS — THE MARMOT AND PICA — THE 
VALLEY IN WINTER 

THE beautiful place which had been discovered 
in such a delightful way we called Paradise 
Valley. Our route will never be popular ex- 
cept with mountaineers, and comparatively few will 
see this valley from the Mitre col. The lower end 
of Paradise Valley can be seen to better advantage 
from an elevated place called The Saddle, a part of 
Fairview Mountain, east of Lake Louise. An excel- 
lent trail has been made and you may now ride there 
on the back of an Indian pony in an hour. The 
Saddle is an upland meadow between a craggy ele- 
vation on one side and the great conical mass of 
Fairview Mountain to the north. This alp, beautified 
by waving grass and bright flowers, alternating with 
scattered groves of Lyall's larch, is so elevated that 

54 



WE 
R CAMi 
VERSING THE P >US 

SOMERSAULT — THE I — 

DISCORDANT FLOWER CO 
SPRUCE AND BALSAM — IHE BL 
PINE — THE LYALLS LAP 
COLD AND STORMS — THE MARMC 
VALLEY IN WINTER 

Mount Temple from .the Saddleback... 

THE beautiful place wnich had been discovered 
in such a delightful way we called Paradise 
Valley. Our route w^ r be popular ex- 

cept with mountaineers, a y few will 

rom the \ 
of ley can be seen to 

from an elevated place called The i 
Fairview Mountain, east of Lake Lc excel- 

lent trail has been made and you may now ride there 
the back of an Indian pony in r 'he 

an upland mead 

of 

Tied 

vvith 

d that 








«. < rt^jji 



>1^r < fe , 



*■' f .\ Tl 




Hn lllplanb flDea&ow 55 

it commands an inspiring view of the Bow valley 
and of Mt. Temple. The latter is a splendid mount- 
ain (the highest seen from the Canadian Pacific 
Road), and is surpassed only by the giant Mt. As- 
siniboine to the south, and by those great snow 
mountains, Forbes and Lyell, near the source of the 
Saskatchewan. 

The meadow dips gently southwards, suddenly 
breaks up into rocky crags, and then drops abruptly 
fifteen hundred feet to the bottom of Paradise Valley, 
where the stream resembles a narrow band of silver, 
winding in sinuous course through the forests. 
Standing on one of these flat-topped ledges, where a 
stone from the hand drops one hundred feet before 
touching the cliff, you may enjoy one of the most 
inspiring views in the Rockies of Canada. A small, 
blue lake rests against the base of Mt. Temple, some- 
what elevated above the valley, hemmed in by forests, 
and sparkling with diamonds when the sun is south. 
It is more than five thousand feet from the water of 
this lonely pool to the top of Mt. Temple. A glacier, 
free of all dirt-bands and stones, for there are no 
cliffs above to scatter rock-falls upon it, crowns the 
mountain summit and, at intervals, makes ice ava- 
lanches when its hanging edge breaks away. These 
avalanches are infrequent, but the roar of ice in its 
fall of several thousand feet may be heard at Laggan, 
six miles distant. 

One route to Paradise Valley lies over this Saddle, 
but a far shorter way is through the forests from Lake 



56 Gbe IRocJUes of Cana&a 

Louise to the mouth of the other valley, which is 
only three miles distant and on about the same level. 
We decided to make a camping expedition into this 
region and explore it at leisure, so we procured three 
or four horses at the chalet and made ready some pro- 
visions and blankets. It would not have required a 
very large book to contain all we knew about packing 
horses at that time. They say the Bedouins pack 
their camels in a singular manner by winding thongs 
round the animals' bodies, packs and all, and at their 
journeys' end simply cut the fastenings, whereupon 
everything comes loose. Our horses must have been 
packed in a similar manner, but at all events we knew 
absolutely nothing about the " diamond hitch." 

Allen and Henderson said they would go ahead 
and get a camp settled near the end of Paradise Val- 
ley. To help drive the horses, two Indian boys were 
engaged, but on the second day, after a hearty break- 
fast, they deserted. Frissell and I came along in two 
days with another horse and some auxiliary supplies. 
I shall never forget that night when we were search- 
ing for the camp. We had been leading the horse, 
an obstinate old brute, more than six hours through 
the pathless forest, and had arrived at length not far 
from the valley end, where, however, there was no 
sign of a camp. A stormy night was coming on and 
a fine drizzle commenced to wet the underbrush. 
We untied the rifle and fired several shots as a signal 
of distress. Hollow echoes from the forest gloom 
and the long-drawn repetitions farther and farther 



traversing tbe ipatbless iforeat 57 

away mocked our despair. The poor old cayuse 
was a picture of silent misery with his head hanging 
down, the rain dripping in streamlets from ears and 
mane, and his body steaming with moisture. We 
prepared to make a night of it in the wet forest with 
no tent to protect us, no axe to cut fire-wood, and 
little chance of cooking anything, though there were 
some cold canned provisions somewhere on the 
horse unless they had fallen out of his packs. I put 
on a "slicker" and made a last search for the camp 
in a rapid excursion up the valley. Some large 
whitish stones loomed through the darkness and 
several times deceived me into the idea that they 
were our tent. At length I found the place on the 
farther side of a stream and gave a shout. There 
was no fire before the camp, which made it so diffi- 
cult to find. In another hour the horse had been 
brought up and a fire made, large enough to dry our 
clothes and cook a fine dinner. The next day was 
spent in cutting fire-wood and boughs for beds, to 
say nothing of making camp generally comfortable. 
Several trips were made afterwards between the 
lake and camp to replenish our stock of blankets and 
provisions. As might be supposed where the ex- 
plorers were inexperienced and the country unusually 
rough, some remarkable things happened on these 
journeys. There was a spot about two miles within 
the valley entrance that always put our patience to 
a severe test. On one side of the stream was a place 
made fairly impassable by fallen trees crossed two or 



58 Zbe IRocfcies of Canafca 

three deep. The other bank, which we were com- 
pelled to take, was covered by an unusually dense 
forest, where a tangled underbrush and fallen timber 
partially concealed the pitfalls of a moss-covered 
rock-slide. There were deep holes between the 
stones, and in many places underground streams, 
which we could hear gurgling beneath our feet, had 
washed out the soil. To lead a horse through this 
place required considerable skill and courage. With- 
out guidance the poor beast would stand motionless, 
but to choose a path while leading him was a pre- 
carious occupation, for the very first hole was enough 
to frighten the animal so that, instead of going more 
carefully, he usually commenced a wild rush till he 
fell. In these frantic struggles we were occasionally 
trampled on, while the packs were smashed against 
the trunks of trees or torn off altogether. 

Our usual manner of procedure was to have one 
of our party ahead to select rapidly open places in 
the forest, while about twenty-five yards behind 
came another whose duty it was to find the path- 
finder, and if possible improve on his route. Then 
came the horse led by a third, while the rear of our 
little procession was brought up by two others 
charged with the responsibility of picking up what- 
ever articles fell out of the packs. 

The following incident, which is related merely 
for the sake of historical accuracy and to show the 
possibilities of the country, is offered with no fond 
hope whatsoever that anyone will credit the tale. 



58 



Hbe 1?ocfc 



three d 
pelled I 
forest. 



I. To 

out guidance the poo 
to choose a path 
> us occupation, for tl 
to frighten the animal so th 
carefully, he usually commence 



vere corn- 
ally dense 
tllen timber 
ss-covered 
en the 
i reams, 
et, had 
ah this 
ith- 
lotionless, 

ugh 

wild rush till he 



fell. In these iimtiA &Y&ggk$ s * ¥<$&tz occasionally 
trampled on, while the packs were smashed against 
the trunks of trees or torn o ether. 

Our usual manner of p to have one 



v ahead to selec 


n places in 


tbout tvs 


behind 


duty it 




nprove 




third. 


our 


procession was brought 


::hers 


\ with the responsibility 


hat- 


h'cles fell out of the pad 




Mowing incident, 


rely 


for v j of historical 


show the 


[ the a 


fond 


that ai 


; the tale. 



a flDarvelloue Somersault 59 

It happened that we were pursuing our way through 
the woods in our usual manner, when the leader 
came to a tree which leaned over the trail at an 
angle. It was small enough to be limber, and large 
enough to be strong. Moreover, it was too low for 
the horse to pass under, and too high for him to jump 
over. Approaching the slanting tree, the leader saw 
the pack-horse rear in the air and prepare for a jump. 
He thought it best to get out of the way, but in his 
haste stumbled and fell headlong into a bush. 
Meanwhile the horse, a stupid old beast, prepared 
for the effort of his life, and with a tremendous 
spring jumped high in air, but unfortunately his fore- 
feet caught in the tree, which swung forward a little 
with his weight, and then returning like a spring, 
turned the animal over in mid-air. The poor beast 
fell on his back about five yards farther on, and re- 
mained motionless as death, with his four legs point- 
ing towards the sky. But this was not all, for the 
tree swung back violently and caught one of our 
party on the nose, fortunately at the end of its 
swing, but with sufficient force to knock him down. 
When our two friends had recovered, we turned our 
attention to the horse, which had not yet moved. 
"He is dead," cried a voice. We rolled him over 
nevertheless, whereupon he got up and seemed 
none the worse for his experience except for a more 
than usual stupidity. 

Though our camp life was not so comfortable as 
further experience has shown to be possible in these 



60 £be IRocJues of Cana&a 

mountains, still there was the enthusiasm of early 
exploits and a certain romantic atmosphere to all we 
saw and did that perhaps lessens with riper experi- 
ence. In the first place our surroundings would 
have appealed to any lover of nature. The upper 
part of this valley is hemmed in by an encircling line 
of mountains, and abruptly terminated to the south 
by a bare precipice which rises in a wedge-shaped 
peak called by us "Hungabee," or the chieftain. 
Falling away into a moderate depression, the cliffs 
rise again on the right into the lofty summit of Mt. 
Lefroy. A curious glacier, shaped like a horseshoe, 
lies at the base of this semicircle of mountains. 
The glacier ends in a high moraine ridge, and below 
this for a mile or more the valley abounds in de- 
lightful meadows and open groves, interrupted at 
frequent intervals by level tracts, pools of water, and 
quiet rivulets, or, where the country is more broken, 
by noisy glacial streams. The meadows were at the 
height of summer glory and bright with the scarlet 
painted-cup and red-purple epilobiums mingled in a 
wild clash of colours. 

There are several species of epilobium in the 
mountains, of which the commonest is a tall plant 
with a long raceme of flowers. It is called the fire- 
weed, for it appears most abundantly in the desolate 
wastes of burnt timber lands, where its bright flowers 
enliven the black and grey monotony of charred 
trees. In late summer it sends forth a multitude of 
cottony seeds, which are borne away through the 



Gbe Tapper l£nb of paraMee tDalle$ 61 

air for miles, sometimes over high mountain ridges, 
to other valleys. There is a smaller and more 
beautiful plant of the same genus, which is only a 
few inches high and bears a few conspicuous flow- 
ers, magenta-purple coloured, that harmonise with 
nothing except perhaps the green of its own pointed 
leaves. It prefers the pebble-lined borders of mount- 
ain streams, or the dry bed of some old channel where 
a little gravel offers a foothold between water-worn 
stones, to the rich soil and verdure of meadows. 
This flower, like Grieg's music, recalls mountain 
pastures, and suggests in its discordant beauty of 
colour tones his wild, bitter-sweet harmonies. 

The altitude of all the upper part of Paradise Val- 
ley is approximately seven thousand feet above sea- 
level, which, in this part of the Canadian Rockies, is 
the normal tree-line. The terms tree-line and snow- 
line are inexact, and vary greatly according to situa- 
tion. In secluded valleys that face north, the upper 
limit of tree growth is sometimes below seven 
thousand feet. But where the valleys are broad and 
sun-exposed, spruces and larches grow as high as 
seventy-five hundred or even seventy-six hundred 
feet above sea-level. 

All the valleys of these mountains are covered 
with heavy coniferous forests. There is a certain 
dignity in these tall, straight trees, which seems suit- 
able to the cold northern wilderness, though the 
effect is monotonous as compared with the variety 
of tree forms found in the deciduous forests of the 



62 Zhc IRocfties of Cana&a 

Appalachians, the Green, and the White mountains. 
Only five kinds of trees compose by far the greater 
part of the forests in the summit range of the Cana- 
dian Rockies. 

The white spruce (Picea Engelmannii) is found 
everywhere throughout the mountains from the low- 
est altitudes to the highest limits of tree growth. It 
is from forty to one hundred feet in height and from 
one to three feet or more in diameter. In heavy for- 
ests the outline of this tree is very narrow, as the 
higher branches, especially, project but a little way 
from the tapering stem. These lateral branches show 
a tendency to slope downwards, possibly the better 
to shed the burden of winter snow. In dark forests 
the lower branches die away and are often hung 
with black and gray beard-lichens. In places where 
the forests are somewhat open and protected from 
snow-slides, the spruce has live branches from the 
ground to the terminal bud, and the tree then as- 
sumes the form of a symmetrical spire. I counted 
four hundred rings in an old spruce stump near Lake 
Louise. This tree was less than three feet in dia- 
meter, but it sometimes exceeds four feet, and by the 
same ratio of growth such trees should be between 
five hundred and six hundred years old. 

The balsam spruce {Abies subalpina) has about the 
same range as the white spruce, but is less common. 
At a distance it is hardly to be distinguished from 
the spruce, but the bark on branches and young 
trees is raised in blisters which contain a drop or two 



XCbe Spruce anb Balsam 63 

of balsam. This balsam exudes from the bark wher- 
ever it is bruised. At first it is a very clear liquid, 
regarded by old trappers and woodsmen as a certain 
cure, when brewed with hot water, for colds and 
throat trouble. On exposure to air it slowly hardens 
into a brittle resin, which the woodsman melts into 
pitch to seal boxes or mend leaky canoes. The 
camper-out makes his bed from balsam boughs, as 
they are more springy and less rigid than those of 
the spruce. The blunt and soft leaves of the balsam 
are likewise much pleasanter to the touch than the 
sharp spruce needles. 

There are two kinds of pine — the black pine 
{Pinus Murrayana), a small and slender tree which 
cannot endure very high altitudes, and the white- 
barked pine {Pinus albicaulis), which is found on 
rocky slopes at greater heights. The black pine ex- 
tends over considerable areas, and alternates with 
spruce when fires destroy one or the other forest. 
The white-barked pine has an open branching trunk 
and is rather scarce in these mountains. 

The most interesting and by far the most beauti- 
ful conifer is Lyall's larch (Larix Lyallii). It resem- 
bles the eastern tamarack, but is restricted to the 
summit range of the Rockies, and its southern limits, 
probably in Montana, have not yet been determined. 
I have never seen the larch in any of the Saskatche- 
wan or Athabasca valleys, and the farthest north that 
1 have observed it was on the slopes of Mt. Hector, 
eleven miles from Laggan. It rarely lives at altitudes 



64 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

below six thousand feet above sea-level. The ex- 
treme range of altitude of this tree might be safely 
placed between 5600 and 7600 feet. Ly all's larch is 
very beautiful, having a rough, grey bark, irregular 
and heavy branches, and a foliage of soft needles 
arranged in tufts like green brushes. Its appearance 
among the spruces as you ascend is a certain indica- 
tion that you are approaching tree-line, where it 
forms scattered groves on all the higher ridges and 
meadowy uplands. Its growth must be extremely 
slow, as I have counted thirty rings in a branch only 
three-fourths of an inch in diameter. The wood is 
hard and brittle, and after a heavy snowfall the 
branches often strew the ground in a painful ruin. 
Thus the tree has an irregular and gnarled appear- 
ance as a result of its ceaseless battle with snow- 
storms and gales. Probably no other tree in the 
world endures such stress of weather. Not till June 
or July does the snow entirely disappear from the 
ground in its usual habitat, and if the winter has 
been unusually severe the drifts may remain all sum- 
mer. Its tender buds burst in June and the needles 
are fully developed in early July, but they are fre- 
quently covered with ice or snow during the summer, 
and in fact I have seen them covered with light 
snow in a freezing atmosphere for nearly three suc- 
cessive weeks in July and August. Then, no matter 
how hot the summer has been, the snow begins to 
fly again in September at these high altitudes, so 
that the larch has an active growing period of only 



Gbe fall's Xarcb 65 

two or three months in the year. Nevertheless their 
trunks are frequently more than two feet in diameter, 
which seems to indicate that they attain a very great 
age in spite of the vicissitudes of climate. Those 
larches that grow at the highest altitudes have a 
curious development not found on trees a few hun- 
dred feet lower. The tufts of needles spring from a 
hollow woody sheath, which is sometimes more than 
an inch long on the high-altitude trees, while else- 
where this development is not present. 

In October the larch needles fade, and during 
autumn mark a band of pale yellow on the mount- 
ains. The Lyall's larch is a constant source of de- 
light to the mountaineer, and adds much beauty to 
those higher valleys and slopes where the deep for- 
ests end and the perpetual snows first appear. Its 
rough bark and crooked branches, adorned with a 
scanty foliage, make a light shade and show the 
blue sky beyond. In such places, contrasted with 
the cliffs and snow fields of the mountains, it lends a 
charm to their grandeur. 

The Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga Douglasii) is the 
largest conifer of the eastern or summit range, but is 
only found on the foothills east of the mountains or 
in valleys which are less than five thousand feet 
above tide. Here it is found in company with the 
aspen poplar (Populus tremuloides), and the cotton- 
wood (P. balsatnifera), which when well seasoned 
makes the finest camp-fire possible and gives out no 
smoke or sparks whatsoever. 



66 Gbe IRocfties of Canada 

There was not much game around our camp in 
Paradise Valley, though we saw tracks of mountain 
goats while on our various excursions. There were, 
however, numerous small animals, one of which, a 
kind of rat with a bushy tail, tried to run off with 
various metal articles and did considerable damage 
during our absence from camp by gnawing our cam- 
era cases and leather straps. We frequently saw 
and heard the great hoary marmot, or whistling 
badger, which always remains at a safe distance, but 
startles the solitary wanderer by its sudden and ex- 
ceedingly shrill whistle. Porcupines also lived in 
the open woods, one of which we killed and ate 
when we were hard up for provisions. They are 
hardly eatable, though the Indians regard them 
highly as an article of food. A most interesting 
little rodent is one that, at first, we called the 
seven-thousand-foot rat, because he invariably puts 
in an appearance at this altitude. This is the pica, or 
tailless hare, a squirrel-like animal, which infests dry 
meadows and the tumbled masses of rocks where 
slides have come down from the mountains. They 
have sufficient curiosity to make them narrowly 
watch your approach, till at length, overcome by 
fear, they dart away among the stones. The pica's 
only music is a dismal squeak, but they are so char- 
acteristic of upland parks and lonely though beautiful 
valleys, that the mountain climber comes to associate 
them with some of his finest experiences and so to 
love them. 



" 







66 






ur va 

netal 
ur abst 



our camp in 

s of mountain 

re were, 

, one of which, a 

•ff with 



shrill v 
pen woods, 

When We Were \G.*ant Steps Falls, 

hardly eatable, tl 
highly as an arti 
little rode 
seven- 

inceatthi 



aw 
ing 

lance, but 
ex- 



it* 



Lhey are 
egard theni 
; interesting 
■ called the 



appro. 




■ 


y dart awa 






isic is a dis' 










autiful 


the mo 




i ate 


le of his 




id so to 






Gbe Dalle? in XKHinter 67 

Our chief adventures in Paradise Valley were the 
successful ascent of two unclimbed peaks, Mt. Aber- 
deen and Mt. Temple, an account of which will be 
given elsewhere. At the end of summer we had 
pretty well explored about fifty square miles around 
Lake Louise and were enabled to make a map of this 
beautiful region. 

One by one the members of our party were com- 
pelled to bid farewell to the glories of the Rockies. 
I remained later to finish some details of survey 
work, and early in October made a final expedition 
with Mr. Astley to bring back our tent from Paradise 
Valley. A light snow covered the ground in pro- 
tected places, and the large stream of Paradise Valley 
had fallen so much that its rocky bed proved the 
safest route for our pack-horse. On our way we saw 
a fine herd of mountain goats, a species of antelope 
like the chamois of Switzerland. 

Our camp was buried in snow, the ridge-pole of 
the tent broken with the heavy burden, and every- 
thing so much changed in appearance that we had 
trouble at first in finding the place. The murky air 
was filled with falling snow as we rolled up the 
frozen canvas and blankets, while the mountains, 
half concealed by the approaching storm, showed 
vague outlines, and from the thickening gloom came 
the indefinite roar of distant snow-slides. 

We reached the lower end of the valley by night- 
fall, where in this altitude a fine rain was sifting 
through the spruce needles, and here we made camp 



68 £be IRocfties of Canada 

in a dense forest. A crackling camp-fire, built of 
great logs, drove away the chill and dampness of a 
rainy night. The tent, our clothes, and the mossy 
ground were soon steaming, while the glare of our 
fire gave a cheerful light to the dark forest. Snow 
was falling in the morning, and squalls were sweep- 
ing through the valley and across the flanks of Mt. 
Temple, but three hours' travel through the cold 
swamps and snow-covered underbrush brought us 
to the chalet. 

A few days later 1 climbed to Lake Agnes to hunt 
the mountain goats which frequent the place. The 
lake was nearly covered with ice, while the snow 
was already two feet deep, and 1 was compelled to 
seek shelter behind a cliff, for there was a driving 
wind, bitterly cold, and full of hail. 



CHAPTER V 

MT. ASSINIBOINE— OUTFITTING FOR A CAMPING TRIP— ANEC- 
DOTES ABOUT THE EARLY SURVEYORS — ROUTE TO ASSINI- 
BOINE — A RAINY CAMP — DEEP SNOW ON THE SIMPSON PASS 
— WOODS OF THE SIMPSON VALLEY — DEATH OF A PACK- 
HORSE — END OF AN EXHAUSTING MARCH— FIRST VIEW OF 
ASSINIBOINE — A BURNT TIMBER CAMP — MUSIC OF THE WIL- 
DERNESS—IMPRESSIVE VIEW OF ASSINIBOINE — ENVIRON- 
MENT OF OUR CAMP — A STRANGE LAKE — UNDERGROUND 
STREAMS — MEASUREMENT OF THE MOUNTAIN — WE COM- 
MENCE A TOUR ROUND IT — DISCOVER A DEEP VALLEY AND 
THREE NEW LAKES— A WASTE OF FALLEN TIMBER— OUR 
FIRST BIVOUAC — ASCENT OF AN UNKNOWN STREAM — FOILED 
BY A CUL-DE-SAC — HOPE AND DESPAIR — SUCCESS AT LAST 
— DESCENT INTO THE NORTH FORK VALLEY— AN EXHAUST- 
ING MARCH 

ONE of the highest mountains of southern 
Canada is Mt. Assiniboine, which lies 
about twenty-five miles south of Banff. 
This remarkable peak attracted the surveyor's atten- 
tion very early and its position was determined as a 
prominent landmark long before it was visited. Dr. 
Dawson saw it from the White Man's Pass and 
named it after a tribe of plains Indians. So far as I 

have been able to discover, the first person to reach 

6 9 



7o Zbe IRocMes of Canaba 

the base of the mountain was Mr. R. L. Barrett, who 
visited it with Tom Wilson in 1893. 

The reputed interest of the mountain, and the sur- 
rounding region, which was said to be dotted with 
numerous lakes, made me decide to arrange for a 
visit during the summer of 1895. Fortunately it was 
the intention of Mr. Barrett, who was then at Banff, 
to revisit Assiniboine with his friend Mr. J. F. Porter, 
and upon comparing plans it was evident that mutual 
advantage would come from combining our forces. 
There were to be two separate parties, with men 
for each, travelling as one. Thus we were ready 
at any time, in the event of disagreement as to 
routes or plans, to separate and take our several 
ways. 

The sixth of July was the date determined upon 
for our departure. In the meantime we made fre- 
quent trips to the log house of our outfitter, Tom 
Wilson, who was to supply us with pack-horses, 
guides, and our entire camping outfit. Many years 
previously Wilson had packed for the railroad sur- 
veyors and was regarded one of the best packers in 
the North-west. He has a remarkable memory for 
the details of any country that he has ever seen and 
is, moreover, peculiarly alive to special points of 
interest or attractive scenery in the mountains, a 
quality that is conspicuously absent in the majority 
of the people connected with the North-west. 

July commenced rainy and cold, but our arrange- 
ments went forward without interruption. Wilson's 



Bnecfcotes about lEarty Surveyors 71 

place was a scene of busy preparation during the last 
two or three days. Pack-saddles, piles of blankets, 
tents, and ropes were to be seen here and there, 
while bags of provisions and canned goods of all 
kinds were ready for final assortment. Rashers of 
bacon and bags of flour made the bulk of our pro- 
visions, while the smaller packages contained dried 
fruits of several varieties, cereals, sugar, tea, and 
coffee. Pots and pails, knives, forks, and spoons 
were collected in other places, while our men, who 
were already engaged for the trip, were bringing 
order from a chaos of articles, and making sure that 
the saddle-girths, head-ropes, and hobbles were in 
good condition, the axes sharp, and the rifles bright 
and clean. 

" It is all very well," said Wilson one night after 
we had been talking over the possibilities of our trip, 
"to travel with maps, or a guide, and you will have 
no trouble, but I remember some strange things that 
have happened in these mountains. When the sur- 
veyors were searching for the best route across the 
Rockies, Major Rogers sent a party to explore the 
Kananaskis Pass. The man in charge of this party 
was to find, if possible, a way to the Columbia, but 
at the summit of the pass he came to a stream which 
flowed in a direction east of south. He retreated 
after he had followed the stream a short distance, as 
its course made him certain that he was still on the 
eastern slope of the range. But he was at the head 
of the Elk River, which flows into the Columbia by 



72 Zhc IRocfties of Cana&a 

way of the Kootenay, and so, without realising it, 
had crossed the divide. 

"Major Rogers himself," Tom resumed, "was 
upon one occasion more completely turned round 
than that, trying to cross the Selkirk Range. He 
started up the Beaver River from the Columbia and, 
turning up Grizzly Creek, struck the headwaters of 
the Spilimichene, till at last he came out again on the 
Columbia, seventy miles from where he started in, 
and on the same side of the range." 

Our route to Mt. Assiniboine lay through the 
Simpson Pass, and thence down the Simpson River 
to a certain place where an opening in the mountains 
to the south would lead us to this giant of the 
Rockies. Our journey began on the sixth of July, 
though the day was wet and showery. Our four 
men with nine horses started before noon for our 
first camp at Healy's Creek, about six miles from 
Banff. Barrett, Porter, and I came later, on foot, and 
after a mile or so of good road, plunged into the 
difficulties of a bad trail in a burnt timber country, 
and left the last sign of civilisation behind. In a 
drizzling rain we made our way over charred logs 
and through wet brush, hunting for the trail most 
of the time. 

We came at length to Healy's Creek, a large 
stream that comes roaring out of the mountains from 
the west and drains the Simpson Pass to swell the 
Bow River. We shouted across and soon saw Peyto, 
one of our packers, coming at a gallop through the 



H 1Raitt£ Camp 73 

brush. Chiniquay, an Indian cayuse which he rode, 
had to carry us one by one across the creek, which 
was rather deep and swift. The three tents of our 
camp had been prettily grouped under some spruces. 
Everything was in order and the cooks were prepar- 
ing supper upon our arrival. We were labouring 
under many of those imaginary evils which by some 
are supposed to make camp life intolerable, soaked 
through by a long tramp in wet brush to reach 
a rainy camp. Nevertheless we were all happy, as 
our clothes were soon drying around open camp- 
fires, where a fine supper was served. Then we 
rolled up in blankets laid on balsam boughs and 
realised that, at last, our journey to Assiniboine was 
begun. 

" Breakfast is ready," was the cheery shout that 
interrupted our dreams the next morning. The ris- 
ing sun was struggling through uncertain bands of 
clouds and all the meadow flowers and grass were 
sparkling with pendent diamonds of rain and dew in 
the early light. Peyto and Edwards had long since 
driven our horses into camp and in an hour the men 
were busy packing. Our march commenced at 
eight o'clock, Peyto leading, the bay and Pinto — our 
best pack-horses — next, and then our several men 
interspersed among the animals in Indian file. 
We crossed a mile of flat country and, turning 
southwards, commenced to ascend among the high 
mountains. 

The interest of our march was much increased by 



74 Zhc IRocMes of CanaDa 

the number of flowers that were to be seen as we 
went along. In damp, mossy woods we saw the 
round-leafed orchis, a very pretty plant with a single 
green leaf and a raceme of rose-purple flowers. It is 
quite common throughout the mountains. A rarer 
flower and one of exquisite beauty was also seen, 
the Calypso, a northern orchid named for the beauti- 
ful goddess who fell in love with Ulysses. The 
single blossoms are shaped somewhat like those of 
the species called lady's - slipper, and combine a 
showy display of pink, purple, and yellow colours. 
There is a small patch of green timber half a mile 
east of Laggan station where this flower may also 
be found, but it is very scarce elsewhere. 

After a march of six hours we made camp in the 
deep valley of the north fork of Healy 's Creek. While 
the men were putting things in order, it was dis- 
covered that Edwards's axe had been lost some time 
on the day's march. In view of the long journey 
before us and the possibility of considerable trail cut- 
ting, this axe was indispensable to our progress. He 
saddled his horse and started back, saying that he 
would not return till it had been found. Contrary 
to our expectations, he did not return that day nor 
for a period of nearly two weeks. 

Our camp was only a few miles from the Simpson 
Pass, and the next day we reached it in an hour. 
The summit was covered with snow, and many of 
the drifts were fifteen or twenty feet deep. The alti- 
tude of this pass is 6884 feet, and the entire summit 



Deep Snow on tbe Simpson fl>a$6 75 

and the mountains several hundred feet higher 
are covered with trees. The unusual amount of 
snow in July was the result of a long and stormy 
winter followed by a backward spring. The day of 
our visit was warm, and the snow was being fast 
reduced to slush, under the influence of a mild south 
wind. The pass has no decided slope for a mile or 
more, but is broken up by rocky ridges and inter- 
spersed with small lakes. When our descent began, 
the first warm southward slopes were already free 
of snow and covered with banks of beautiful Alpine 
flowers. There were only two or three species in 
these snow-lined flower-gardens, but the multitude 
of blossoms made up for the lack of variety. The 
great white anemone and the yellow Alpine lily 
(Erythronium grandiflorum) were in all stages of 
bud and blossom, revelling in the balmy breezes and 
a wealth of sunshine. Our heavy-footed horses 
trampled down myriads of blossoms in a ruthless 
destruction, regardless of the beauty round them, 
but glad to get into a place where there was hope 
of grass. We had crossed the great divide and 
passed from Alberta to British Columbia. An Indian 
trail led us down by a stream which, at first a mere 
rivulet from melting snow, had now become a brawl- 
ing torrent. This stream ran into the Pacific Ocean. 
The woods became deep and dark with sombre 
trees of great height, among which the trail wound 
deep cut in the loamy soil, and led us at length 
away from the noise of falling water into the forest 



76 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

silence. The day's march ended at the Simpson 
River, where we camped in a level place beside many 
Indian teepee-poles. 

July 9th. The entire Simpson valley in this part 
is an unbroken forest. Several thousand feet higher, 
bare limestone cliffs rise above the mass of green, 
making a picturesque contrast, but there is little per- 
petual snow in sight from the depths of the valley 
bottom. Our line of march lay near the Simpson 
River, which is a very rapid stream, and we followed 
its banks for several hours. During one of several 
river crossings one of my pack-horses was lamed in 
a mysterious manner, but no attention was at first 
paid to what seemed a trivial accident. However, in 
a few minutes we made a final crossing before we 
should ascend the opposite mountain side to a dis- 
tant valley opening. Barrett said this was the route 
he had followed with Wilson in 1893. The stream 
had been safely crossed, and we were trying a short 
cut to the trail which Peyto had located just previ- 
ously on a trip of reconnaissance, and while flounder- 
ing through a soft, mossy wood, the horse recently 
lamed fell in a rough place. The poor beast could 
not get up till his packs were removed, and then it 
was seen that his leg was broken. It required but a 
few minutes to remove his saddle, .and then, after the 
other horses were led away a short distance, Peyto 
ended the unfortunate animal's life with a rifle 
bullet. 

Barrett said it was not far to a pretty lake where 



J£rit> of an lEybausting fIDarcb 77 

there was an excellent camping place and good feed 
for the horses. Leaving the river at an altitude of 
about forty-five hundred feet, the trail ascended by 
a succession of steep pitches through a green forest 
of pine and spruce. After we had been on the 
march for six hours we found ourselves entering a 
high valley much encumbered by rock-slides which, 
though easy enough for us to walk over, were very 
trying and dangerous to the horses. It was impos- 
sible to camp in this vicinity, and after an exhaust- 
ing march of three hours more and an ascent of fully 
two thousand feet from the Simpson River, we made 
camp in a delightful place near a stream. Some 
bushy meadows promised fine feed for our horses 
and the adjacent woods gave us fire-wood. Even 
our weary pack animals when their saddles were re- 
moved rolled on the ground in delight and scratched 
their backs before running off to the meadow. Axes 
were at work cutting fire-wood and poles, so that in 
the hour while our cooks were preparing dinner the 
three tents were placed in position and camp put in 
order for the night. 

Our valley was hemmed in by mountains which 
presented a continuous barrier on either side for 
many miles. The scenery resembled that of the 
Sierra Nevadas — smooth cliffs dotted here and there 
with trees or clumps of bushes, and ornamented by 
waterfalls so high, and so distant from us, that they 
resembled silver threads waving from side to side in 
the changing breezes. Sometimes a stronger wind 



78 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

held them suspended for a time in mid-air, or swept 
them away altogether in a cloud of spray. 

Opposite our camp, and at a considerable height 
above it, there was a formation upon the mountain 
like a rock fortress, where nature had built a nearly 
perfect representation of a mediaeval castle. One 
might easily imagine that these sharp pinnacles and 
rocky clefts were ramparts, embrasures, and turreted 
fortifications. But the wild goats, marmots, and 
picas were the sole owners of this castle. 

July ioth. From a small lake near our camp we 
caught a dozen trout in the morning while our men 
were coming up the valley. It appeared that a few 
miles would bring us to the valley's end, where a high 
pass seemed to terminate the ascent. Filled with 
hope of getting our first view of Mt. Assiniboine 
during the day, we were on the march at an early 
hour. Lyall's larch and scattered snow-drifts indi- 
cated our increasing altitude. The snow soon became 
so deep that only with the greatest difficulty could 
we make any progress whatsoever. On several 
occasions our horses had to struggle through long 
stretches of snow, five or six feet deep, and in such 
places we all went ahead and trampled out a pathway 
for them. Finally a long bare ridge, well exposed 
to wind and sun, offered us a fine route through 
the unbroken snow fields and led us to the summit. 

As the slope began to fall away in the opposite 
direction a new world lay before us. It was a deso- 
late valley of burnt timber, beyond which appeared 



a Burnt timber Camp 79 

a richly coloured lake, girt by green forest and over- 
hung by a barrier of snowy peaks. Above this 
rough range, the sharp crest of Mt. Assiniboine was 
faintly seen through the smoky atmosphere, for 
forest fires were raging somewhere in spite of the 
rainy season. We descended into the valley and 
camped in burnt timber near a small stream. 

That our men and horses might rest after the 
long marches of the last four days it was decided 
to spend an entire day at this place. There was 
little of the picturesque in our environment of burnt 
timber. However, this camp has for some reason 
made one of the pleasantest impressions upon my 
memory. 

Our tents were placed among some trees killed by 
fire. The ground was made comparatively smooth 
by rolling away the charred logs, cutting the bushes 
that had grown up in recent years, and strewing 
upon the ground branches from trees of the new 
generation. In a swamp near us a number of birds 
were nesting and calling their mates. The camp 
was upon the edge of a bluff overlooking a bare 
ravine, where a stream ran swiftly in a timber- 
choked channel, and gave the encroaching bushes 
endless rhythmic movements, as the splashing water 
touched them. A gentle south wind coming up the 
valley soothed us to dreamy slumbers. The stronger 
gusts awakened shrill vibrations in the dead and 
splintered trees, or carried away the torrent's roar in 
frequent alternation of sound volume. The smoke 



so Zbe IRockies of Canaba 

bathed the mountains in hazy blue, and once, com- 
ing in greater thickness, nearly concealed them alto- 
gether and softened the sunlight to a mellow glow. 

The thunder of repeated ice avalanches, or the 
loud reports of stones falling upon the mountains, 
where summer was loosening the frost, several times 
disturbed my siesta. The dreamy rustle of wind- 
blown grass and the varying sound of the torrent 
were, however, like an endless slumber song. From 
a bushy copse in the swamp near our camp two 
white-crested sparrows sang the entire day and part 
of the night a plaintive little air of five notes 
(C, D, E, E, C, of which the two E's are eighth notes, 
while the rest are quarters) repeated six or seven 
times a minute. The last note is somewhat faint 
and flat. This feeble and pathetic outpouring of 
music from happy creatures seemed to accord with 
the barren forest ruin. It is difficult to understand 
the exquisite pleasure that often comes from such 
chance associations. There is something wonderfully 
beautiful in the idea of a pretty melody repeated 
throughout the long summer in the heart of a wilder- 
ness where, in the waste of charred trees and waving 
fireweed, the music of one little bird stirs the heart- 
beats of but one other creature, its mate. 

July 1 2th. We marched east for two hours, find- 
ing a route among the fallen timber as well as we 
could. At length a steep ascent brought us by a 
waterfall to a grove of larches beyond which a beau- 
tiful lake appeared. The transformation from the 



Impressive \Diew of Hssiniboine 81 

waste of burnt timber was immediate and complete. 
A well-marked trail led around the winding shore on 
our left, the other side of the narrow lake being 
hemmed in by rock-slides and cliffs. The last ice of 
winter was drifting before the wind, and the water 
was covered in several places with a kind of slush, 
made of innumerable slender ice-needles. These 
gave a faint sound like the rustle of silk as they 
rubbed one against another in the ripples. The 
trail led us by the lake for half a mile and then, leav- 
ing it, ascended a rocky ridge through a grass-lined 
opening. Another lake was immediately disclosed, 
and beyond it mighty Assiniboine. 

The majestic mountain, which is a noble pyramid 
of rock towering above snow fields, was clearly re- 
flected in the water surface. Such a picture so sud- 
denly revealed aroused the utmost enthusiasm of 
all our party, and unconsciously everyone paused in 
admiration while our horses strayed from the trail 
to graze. Continuing once more, we traversed some 
open places among low ridges covered with beautiful 
larches. We passed through a delightful region 
which descended gently for half a mile to a treeless 
moor, where we pitched camp. Behind us was a 
clump of trees, before us Mt. Assiniboine, and on our 
left a lake of considerable size, which washed the 
very base of the mountain and extended northwards 
in the bottom of a broad valley. 

We remained here for a period of two weeks. 
The altitude of this place is seventy-four hundred feet. 



82 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

This is considerably above the usual tree-line of these 
mountains, though there were a considerable number 
of spruces and larches not only at the level of our 
camp but several hundred feet higher. I attribute 
this to the open character of the valley, which receives 
a considerable amount of sunshine, and so collects 
sufficient heat to raise the level of possible tree 
growth above the normal. Mt. Assiniboine was al- 
most due south from our camp. The distance in a 
straight line was more than a mile to its base and 
nearly three to its summit. Two diverging spurs 
from Assiniboine enclose this valley. To the north 
it expands into open places, interrupted in part by 
scattered tree clumps, but covered generally with a 
low, bushy growth. The smaller trees which grow 
in the open are dwarfed and distorted by their cease- 
less struggle with cold. Even at the borders of thick 
groves the spruces often show a regular line of 
branches, like a trimmed hedge, as though no single 
branchlet would venture into the cold air beyond its 
company. 

The higher dry ground is uneven and hummocky 
from the burrowings of innumerable picas and mar- 
mots. These are a variety of Parry's marmot, some- 
times called the red-bellied ground squirrel, which is 
considerably smaller than the siffleur, or great hoary 
marmot, so common in these mountains. The wolve- 
renes have dug into their burrows and by throwing 
out piles of dirt and great pieces of turf have added 
to the roughness of the region. In the meadowy 



m 








ibove 1 




U there 


arable 


number 


larches 




our 


veral hi 




bute 


oper 












■ 






h al 






. 






























scattered tre c \ufo un * Ass * m ' 6a * ne ' 




ith a 


low, bushy growth 




;row 


in the o 




ir cease- 


1 




of thick 
of 



out 

to the ros 



wing 
dded. 
lowy 



H Strange Hake 83 

and swampy places where our horses pastured, two 
miles north of camp, some curious action of frost has 
converted the ground into a mass of low grass- 
crowned hummocks with bare soil between. Alto- 
gether I have never seen a region which is more 
tiring to the pedestrian than this, because of these 
endless inequalities of the ground, which are half 
concealed by dwarfed trees and a tough underbrush. 

The large lake near the position of our camp has 
some peculiar features. At the time of our arrival a 
strong wind was driving cakes of ice down the lake 
amid whitecaps. The lake seems to rest against a 
small glacier at the foot of Mt. Assiniboine where it 
gets a large part of its water-supply. A large stream 
enters it at the opposite or north end, and several 
others come in at various points, but we were sur- 
prised to find no outlet. This, however, explained 
the rapid change in water level which we had no- 
ticed. The lake was rising at the rate of several 
inches every twenty-four hours. There were indi- 
cations on the shore that the water had at some 
comparatively recent period been ten or twelve feet 
higher. Where do the subterranean waters escape ? 
Perhaps the curious nature of a valley north of our 
camp may throw some light upon this subject. 

Peyto had put our horses in a meadow two 
miles from camp. He made frequent visits to the 
place while looking after the horses, and upon one 
occasion made a trip of six or seven miles down the 
valley. The streams from these meadows run north- 



84 Zbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

wards, disappear into the ground, reappear several 
times, and finally vanish altogether. In this valley 
a mile or so farther on is a curious lake set in a lime- 
stone basin. One or two small streams enter it, and 
a number of air bubbles rising through its clear wa- 
ter in several places indicate subterranean springs, 
but there is no outlet. Then for three miles no 
stream or sign of water is visible in this weird valley 
of curious limestone hills covered with a few trees. 
At the base of a great hill, however, where the 
valley bottom drops suddenly six or seven hundred 
feet, a number of springs gush out, and this we dis- 
covered later was the source of the Simpson River. 
Everything seems to show that the waters of the 
last lake, the meadows beyond, and perhaps also the 
large lake at the base of Mt. Assiniboine are carried 
in underground passages to make these springs. 
The whole region is a limestone formation and 
abounds in caves and sink-holes. 

It has been mentioned that on the second day's 
march one of our packers, Edwards, had gone back 
to find a lost axe. At every subsequent camp, there- 
fore, we had left a supply of provisions and infor- 
mation about the route we were going to pursue. 
More than ten days had now elapsed and nothing 
had been heard from him. Peyto's fertile imagina- 
tion conjured up visions of his having been drowned 
in Healy's Creek, and I must confess that we were 
all somewhat worried. It seemed best to send Peyto 
back on a fast saddle-horse, to make inquiries at 



fIDeasurement of tbe fIDountain 85 

Banff, and improve the opportunity of bringing out 
another horse to replace the one that had been shot. 
Meanwhile, as Mt. Assiniboine seemed a serious 
problem for even a well-equipped Alpine party, we 
made no attempt to climb the mountain. We con- 
tented ourselves with a number of lesser mountain 
ascents, and from several points between eight thou- 
sand and nine thousand feet high obtained splendid 
views of the giant of the Rockies. 

There were, unfortunately, no surveying instru- 
ments in our outfit, but I determined to get a rough 
approximation on the height of Assiniboine. I used 
my camera tripod for a plane table and made a 
little alidade by adjusting two upright sticks to an- 
other with a straight edge. The upright sticks were 
threaded with horse-hairs. Taking a piece of linen 
thread about fifteen yards long I set up stakes and 
laid out a base line. This thread was carefully meas- 
ured when I reached Banff. With these crude in- 
struments I plotted out and found the horizontal 
distance to the top of the mountain, and repeated 
the operation several times. For the vertical angles 
I set up a table and a basin of water. I had a large 
piece of celluloid as a substitute ground glass for my 
camera, and on this a straight line was ruled and 
made to coincide with the water surface. Then two 
needles were used as sights, and the vertical angle 
to the mountain top was indelibly scratched on the 
celluloid and measured later. By adding the result 
thus determined to the altitude of our camp, I got 



86 Gbe IRocfties of Canaba 

1 1, 680 feet for the total height of Mt. Assiniboine. 
The result obtained by the Topographical Survey 
of Canada from angles taken at a distance is 1 1,830 
feet. This, no doubt, is very nearly the exact height, 
and the comparative agreement of my result is 
probably due to several errors cancelling themselves 
out and so giving a better result than the instru- 
ments deserved. 

One day, about a week after leaving us, Peyto 
galloped into camp with another horse, some addi- 
tional provisions, and our guide Edwards. The lat- 
ter said he had followed us for four days' march, 
when he lost our trail and returned to Banff. 

Shortly after Peyto's arrival, Barrett and I pro- 
jected a plan to see the south side of Mt. Assini- 
boine. As the country was very rough, it was 
impossible to make the trip with horses, so we pre- 
pared to try it on foot. We were going into a coun- 
try that in all probability had never been visited by 
any white man. We each carried a single blanket 
and food enough to last three days. These burdens 
were made as light as possible, for the success of our 
expedition would depend in a large measure on the 
rapidity of our movements. My camera, several 
cups and knives, a small hand-axe, and a few other 
articles which seemed absolutely necessary were 
distributed among our packs. 

On the 26th of July, Barrett, Peyto, and I started 
on this expedition, which, though attended by con- 
siderable hardship, eventually proved most valuable 



H 2>eep Dalle? S7 

and interesting. At eight o'clock we bade farewell 
to those at the main camp and said we should return 
on the third or fourth day. We walked three miles 
to the north-east, through open country, which rises 
gradually to a pass eight thousand feet above sea- 
level. On the summit of this a deep valley lay before 
us, very heavily wooded and nearly filled by three 
lakes, one of which is three or four miles long, while 
the two upper ones are smaller. The water of each 
is differently coloured, one yellowish green, another 
blue-green, and the other blue. All are fed by a 
stream coming from a glacier on Mt. Assiniboine 
which presently appeared on our right. 

We descended two thousand feet into the valley 
and took a short rest by the blue waters of the mid- 
dle lake. The air was oppressively hot and we 
struggled amid the pitfalls of very large timber, mak- 
ing slow progress and tormented by myriads of mos- 
quitoes. We crossed this narrow valley between 
the two upper lakes and found a fallen tree that 
served for a bridge over the stream. Then ensued a 
difficult scramble up the opposite side of the valley, 
which made us climb again nearly the entire two 
thousand feet of our first descent. This hard work 
ended suddenly when we found ourselves in a com- 
paratively level valley, beautified by meandering 
streams, open meadows, and a few small lakes. On 
the summit of a pass where the water turned in the 
opposite direction we ate lunch and took an hour of 
rest beside a rock-girt pool. 



88 Zbe IRocfcies of Canaba 

This was the end both of the green timber and of 
our pleasant surroundings, for shortly after resuming 
our journey we came to a burnt forest. It seemed 
that the entire valley had been utterly devastated by 
afire which had swept through this region apparently 
not many years before. Many of the trees had been 
completely destroyed, while the youngest had been 
charred and warped into arched poles with their tops 
touching the ground. Ledges of sandstone and 
quartz had been splintered by the intense heat into 
sharp-edged fragments which covered the ground. 
The direction of this desolate valley soon changed 
sharply to our right and we felt that a corner of Assini- 
boine had been turned. There was no sign of any 
trail and it is very doubtful if the Indians ever used 
this route among the mountains. The fallen timber 
became denser as we progressed. The monotony of 
our travel was interrupted by our coming to a sudden 
pitch or descent of the entire valley where there was 
an abrupt fall of about five hundred feet. Arrived 
at the bottom of this, we had not walked far before 
another appeared, similar to the first, only far deeper. 
The mountains, which were very high on either side, 
seemed to rise above us to far greater altitudes as, in 
rapid descent, we reached lower levels. 

i The burnt timber continued without interruption. 
Our passage became mere log walking, as the extra 
exertion of jumping over the trees was worse than 
following a crooked course on top of the prostrate 
trunks. This laborious and exceedingly tiresome 



Au^v&V^W 




88 



)a 



1 the green timber and ol 
for shortly after resun 



st. It seemed 

devastated by 

arently 

s had been 



to a burnt f 
had been 
wept through 
efore. Man 
stroyed, wl 
ed into 
ound. 

uon of th 
ourrighl 

Assiniboine Group from the North-east. 

I and it er used 

this route am Th< fallen timber 

became onotony of 

o a sudden 
was 



ini- 





. 




iltil 


unit timl ' 




age becai 


xtra 




than 




the prostrate 


! 


ly tiresome 



a Waste of fallen timber 8 9 

work lasted for three hours, and at length the charred 
trunks, uprooted or burnt off near the ground, and 
crossed in every direction, were piled so high that we 
were often ten or twelve feet above the ground, and 
had to work out our puzzling passage with consider- 
able forethought. At five o'clock our labours ended. 
We made camp by a stream which seemed to take its 
source near Mt. Assiniboine. The only good thing 
about this place was the abundance of fire-wood, 
which was well seasoned, required but little chop- 
ping, and was already half converted into charcoal. 
Under the shelter of an overhanging limestone ledge 
we made three lean-tos by supporting our blankets 
on upright stakes. Black as coal-heavers from our 
long walk in the burnt timber, seeking a refuge in 
the rocky ledges of the mountains, and clad in un- 
couth garments torn and discoloured, we must have 
resembled the aboriginal savages of this wild region. 
Some thick masses of sphagnum moss, long since 
dried up, gave us a soft covering, to place on the 
rough, rocky ground. Our supper consisted of bacon, 
hardtack, and tea. Large flat stones placed on a 
gentle charcoal fire served to broil our bacon quite 
successfully, though the heat soon cracked the stones 
in pieces. 

We were now on the Pacific slope and, as we be- 
lieved, on one of the tributaries of the north fork of the 
Cross River, which flows into the Kootenay. The 
aneroid indicated that our altitude was only forty- 
seven hundred feet above the sea, and showed that 



90 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

we were nearly three thousand feet below the level 
of the camp we had left nine hours before. At eight 
o'clock, though it was still light, we retired to the 
rough protection of our shelter with a fire burning 
near us. Overhead the starless sky threatened rain, 
which fortunately did not come, while the clouds 
and our lower altitude made the night comfortably 
warm. 

On the following day everyone was ready to pro- 
ceed at an early hour. Hitherto in our journey around 
Assiniboine we had turned to the right wherever any 
valley or pass gave us the opportunity. Thus we 
were making a circuit of its several spurs and keeping 
as near the great mountain as possible. However, 
no view had been obtained of the main peak after 
leaving the valley of the three lakes, where we 
looked upon its north-east face. This first bivouac 
was beside a stream of moderate size, coming out 
of a valley at right angles to the one we had re- 
cently followed. It seemed altogether better to 
explore this, that we might keep as near as possible 
to Assiniboine and not find our view cut off by any 
intervening mountain range. With practice a very 
fair idea of the length of these mountain valleys may 
be had by observing the size of streams and the 
amount of water they carry. This one seemed to 
indicate a valley between eight and ten miles in 
length. 

We were on the march about seven o'clock and 
began to ascend the stream. Our plan was to follow 



jfoilefc b? a Cul*&e*Sac 91 

the valley as far as practicable and see what would 
develop, but beyond that everything was indefinite. 
Clouds covered the entire sky and touched the 
mountain tops, but the worst sign of bad weather 
was that they constantly settled to lower levels. 
We had this one day, however, to see the south side 
of Assiniboine, and were resolved to take our chances, 
though they seemed much against us. 

We traversed the unending burnt timber by first 
scaling far up to avoid a canyon and then coming 
down to the stream, where at length there was 
better walking. About ten o'clock we sat down on 
the bank to rest a few moments and to eat a lunch 
of hardtack and cold bacon. In the fresh mountain 
air even this rough fare was most appetising after 
our tramp of three hours amongst fallen trees. 

A most encouraging change of weather now took 
place, for a sudden gleam of sunlight called our at- 
tention upwards, where to our great relief blue sky 
appeared and the clouds seemed to be dissolving 
away. 

Once more taking up our various packs, we pushed 
on with renewed energy. On the left or south, was 
a long and lofty ridge of nearly uniform height, on 
the right a stupendous mountain wall of great height, 
the top of which was concealed by the clouds. This 
impassable barrier seemed to curve around at the 
head of the valley, and, turning to the south, join 
the ridge on the opposite side. This then was a 
cul-de-sac, or "blind" valley without an outlet. 



92 Zhe IRocfties of Canada 

There were two courses open to us. The first was 
to wait a few hours, hoping to see Mt. Assiniboine, 
and return to camp the way we came. The second 
was to force a passage, if possible, over the mount- 
ain ridge to the south and so descend into the North 
Fork valley, which we were certain lay on the other 
side. The latter plan was preferable, as we would 
have a better chance to see Mt. Assiniboine, and the 
possibility of returning to camp by a new route. 
After a short discussion, we selected a favourable slope 
and began to ascend the mountain ridge. In memory 
a great number of obstacles loomed behind us — two 
high passes, dense forests, and that endless valley of 
dead timber where the trees were crossed in be- 
wildering confusion. Hope built a pleasing air-castle 
in striking contrast to this picture. We were now 
climbing to its outworks and, should we succeed in 
capturing the place, a new and probably interesting 
route would lead us back to camp — so extravagant 
is hope — perhaps by nightfall. Thus with a repel- 
lent force behind us and eager desire to complete our 
circuit of the mountain, we were resolved not to 
retrace our steps. 

The slope we were now ascending was at first 
comparatively gentle. We passed several red-col- 
oured ledges containing deposits of iron ore, while 
calcite and carbonate of iron were visible everywhere 
and made a brilliant surface of sparkling crystals 
over the dull limestones. In the valley below, two 
lakes appeared as we ascended, one of which was 



1bope ant> SDespair 93 

literally covered with floating trees, the result, no 
doubt, of a winter snow-slide. 

In an hour we had come to the apparent top of 
our ridge, though hope hardly dared suggest that it 
was the true summit. As one after another we 
reached a commanding spot, a blank look of despair 
stole over the face of each. No word was spoken, 
but that silent gaze meant our defeat. To our dis- 
may, a vertical wall of rock appeared and rose five 
hundred feet above us. Thus all our fond hopes 
were suddenly defeated and we turned perforce, in 
imagination, to a weary retreat over the many miles 
of prostrate tree trunks that intervened between us 
and our camp. 

The main object of our long journey was, how- 
ever, at this time attained, for the clouds lifted and 
revealed the south side of Mt. Assiniboine, a sight 
that probably no other white men have ever seen. 
I took my camera and descended on a rocky ridge 
for some distance in order to get a photograph. Re- 
turning to where my friends were resting, I felt the 
first sensation of dizziness and weakness, resulting 
from unusual physical exertion and a meagre diet. 
I joined the others in another repast of raisins and 
hardtack, taken from our rapidly diminishing store 
of provisions. 

Some more propitious divinity must have been 
guiding our affairs at this time, for while we were 
despondent at our defeat, and engaged in discussing 
the most extravagant routes up an inaccessible cliff, 



94 Zbe IRocfcies of Canada 

our eyes fell on a well-defined goat trail leading 
along the mountain side on our left. It offered a 
chance which we accepted. Peyto set off ahead while 
we were packing up our burdens. Having already 
passed several places that appeared very dangerous, 
what was our surprise to see him now begin to 
move slowly up a slope of snow that appeared nearly 
vertical. We argued that if he could go up such a 
place as that, he could go anywhere, and that where 
he went we could follow. We hurried after him 
and found the goat trail wide and the worst places 
not so bad as they seemed from below. The snow 
ascent was very steep but safe enough, and after 
reaching the top, the goat trail led us on, like a faith- 
ful guide, showing us the way. We could see only 
a short distance ahead because of numerous ridges 
and gullies. Below us was a steep slope roughened 
by projecting crags, while, as we passed along, 
showers of loose stones rolled down the mountain 
side and made an infernal clatter, ever reminding us 
not to slip. At one o'clock we stood on the top of 
the ridge nine thousand feet above sea-level, having 
ascended forty-three hundred feet from our last camp. 
The valley of the north fork of the Cross River 
lay far below, covered with green forests, which 
gave a pleasant invitation for us to descend. Gallop- 
ing down a long slope of loose scree, with a shower 
of rocks following us, we came to rough limestone 
gullies where unstable footholds suggested caution. 
Then ensued several hundred feet of bare rock-slides, 



descent into IRortb Jforfc IDalles 95 

where among the lichen-covered stones the highest 
Alpine flowers appeared, and then very soon tufts of 
grass and green slopes, with a few dwarfed trees. 
Their increasing size, the warm air, and at length a 
deep forest indicated our rapid descent. A final 
slope, where copses of birch and a few small maples 
showed that we were on the Pacific side of the 
range, led us through a garden of bluebells, asters, 
and painted-cup to a meadow by the river. Here 
we paused to admire our surroundings and feast on 
wild strawberries. In this place we were four thou- 
sand feet below the ridge from which we had re- 
cently gazed on Mt. Assiniboine. 

This was the north fork of the Cross River, no 
doubt the same stream by which we had camped on 
our journey to Assiniboine, and the same that takes 
its source in small lakes near our camp. 

Near the river we found a trail, the first we had 
seen so far on our way around Assiniboine. After 
an hour of walking we came to a number of horses, 
and soon saw on the other side of the river a camp 
of another party of gentlemen, Messrs. Allen and 
Smith, who were exploring this region, and had been 
out from Banff twenty-four days. We forded the 
river, and found it a little over our knees, but very 
swift. 

A pleasant half-hour was spent at this place while 
we enjoyed their hospitality and related our adven- 
tures. Then, "hitting the trail" once more, we 
walked rapidly in a supreme effort to reach camp 



96 Zhe IRockies of Cana&a 

that night. The valley held a straight course for 
about six miles and then swung round to the north. 
We had turned three corners of Assiniboine. Burnt 
timber now came again in evidence. As we had 
been walking almost continuously for the past fifteen 
hours, we were so fatigued that a very slight obstruc- 
tion was sufficient to cause a fall, and every few min- 
utes some one of the party would tumble headlong 
into the burnt timber. We were too tired to lift 
our feet over roots and sticks, but there were barely 
enough provisions to last another meal and we were 
anxious to get as near headquarters as possible. At 
ten o'clock the light in the northern sky failed us, 
and further progress being impossible, we selected a 
fairly level place among the charred logs for a biv- 
ouac. After a last meal of bacon and hardtack, we lay 
on the ground round a large fire. Thanks to a mild 
night and extreme weariness, we slept soundly during 
the few hours of darkness, but were again on foot at 
four o'clock. We marched into camp at half-past 
six and found the cooks building the morning fires 
and ready to prepare breakfast. 

This was without doubt the first circuit of Mt. 
Assiniboine. By pedometer, which, however, meas- 
ured every one of the countless logs we had jumped 
and a thousand devious turns, the distance was fifty- 
one miles, and this we had done in less than forty- 
eight hours. 

After a day of needed rest, our winding train of 
horses left the beautiful site of Mt. Assiniboine to 



an lEybausting flDarcb 97 

commence our homeward journey, and there were 
many unexpressed feelings of regret at saying fare- 
well to these scenes of beauty and grandeur. We 
followed the Simpson to the Vermilion River and 
the latter to the Vermilion Pass, and after seven days 
reached the Bow River at Castle Mountain. 



CHAPTER VI 

ANOTHER ROUTE TO ASSINIBOINE — MEADOWS ON THE 
CONTINENTAL DIVIDE — A MIDSUMMER SNOW-STORM — A 
MARCH THROUGH FOG AND SNOW — A VISION OF STRANGE 
MOUNTAINS — A PERILOUS DESCENT — VALLEY OF THE 
GNOMES — A TREMENDOUS LANDSLIDE — SECOND CAMP 
AT ASSINIBOINE — A PARTIAL ASCENT — GENERAL FORM 
OF THE MOUNTAIN — FOUR DIFFERENT ROUTES TO THIS 
REGION 

IN the summer of 1899 I made another visit to 
Assiniboine. Messrs. Henry G. Bryant and 
Louis J. Steele were anxious to see this noble 
peak, and for my own part, the exploration of new 
routes to and from the mountain was a sufficient 
incentive to make the trip. It was first proposed to 
take a Swiss guide and make some attempt to climb 
Assiniboine, but we were unable to obtain the serv- 
ices of one for such a length of time as our jour- 
ney would require. Nevertheless, we carried in our 
outfit some rope and three ice-axes, with the idea 
of making at least a reconnaissance of its lower 
slopes under our own guidance. Wilson suggested 
a shorter route than by the Simpson Pass, one that 
should follow a branch of Healy's Creek and lead to 

qS 



fIDeabows on tbe Continental Wvoibe 99 

the summit of the continental divide, where there 
is a level and open expanse above tree-line. On 
these elevated meadows, it is possible for horses to 
travel with ease in any direction. 

On July 23rd, about noon of the second day out 
from Banff, our party might have been seen on an 
Indian trail that runs through a dark forest, over- 
looking a narrow valley, and commands, through 
the trees, inspiring views of the height and depth 
of mountain grandeur. The trail led persistently 
upward, sometimes in pitches so steep as to worry 
our heavily burdened horses, till at length the 
larches began to appear, and gave a sure sign that 
open country was near. Presently the slope be- 
came gentle. Marching through open meadows and 
between larch-crowned ridges, we soon entered a 
delightful upland. We could see the peaks of dis- 
tant mountains rising above the open country, while 
all the low regions were hidden from view. An ex- 
cellent trail (as is always the case when there is no 
urgent need for one) led us gradually above the re- 
gion of larches till we were surrounded by banks 
of Alpine flowers, and snow-drifts lingering from a 
stormy winter. Far to the south a sharp mountain 
of striking outline rose above the meadowy expanse. 
It was Mt. Assiniboine. 

We made camp by a small lake which was dot- 
ted with several rocky islands and enclosed by stern 
cliffs where a few half-dead larches were standing, 
or their ancient hulks, bare of bark and bleached 



ioo Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

by the exposure of centuries, covered the ground. 
Bryant, who was familiar with the interior of La- 
brador and Greenland, said the place recalled those 
barren regions. The day of our arrival was one of 
brilliant sunshine, while great cumulus clouds were 
suspended in the blue vault above. The green 
meadows and rolling hills from which we seemed to 
command a view of the entire world were veritable 
gardens of wild-flowers growing near drifts which 
nearly gave us snow-blindness. Summer was just 
coming to this upper world, and all nature was alive. 
Springs and streams were carrying away the snow- 
drifts and turning to snow-white foam again, as they 
fell over ledges to lower levels and other meadows. 
Butterflies floated across our. paths, flies and bees 
were gathering honey from the flowers to scatter un- 
consciously the pollen of the anemones and the 
heaths, while even a few birds visited this high re- 
gion to prey upon the innumerable insects which 
were enjoying their brief summer. 

Brief indeed it was, or at least interrupted for a 
time. Clouds gathered in the night, and the next 
morning a cold rain was falling and soon turned to 
snow. The upper hills began to whiten, and pres- 
ently, the snow remained upon the ground near our 
upland camp. The storm increased and shrouded 
the nearer hills in gloom, shutting out our land- 
marks, for we were to travel that day in spite of the 
weather. It was cold and cheerless work for our 
men and us to roll up our wet and slushy tents and 



IOC 



Gbe *RocMe0 of Car 



the expo 


d the grck 




nterior of La- 


1 


recalled those 




was one of 


iant sunshii 


louds were 


the bit; 


The green 


oiling h 


d to 












T \A'fl<s, ill^t 



md turning again, as they 

OVer ledge: On the Continental Divide. ~ , eadoWS. 



Butterflies flc 
were gatherin 
conscioi 
hear 



hs, flies and bees 
wers to scatter un- 
nemones and the 
isitei high re- 

ible which 



hill 

It was cc 
roll i 



d to 
i, and pres- 
md near our 
d shrouded 
it our land- 
spite of the 
ork for our 
nts and 



H fBMteummer Snow-storm 101 

keep our blankets dry while the shivering horses 
were packed. Some were refractory and wild, so 
that an hour was wasted in patient and artful 
effort in the wet brush to catch two of them. A 
large fire was kept blazing to bring back life and 
warmth to our half-frozen fingers. We should never 
have undertaken a march through a country un- 
known to every one of the party, had we not carried 
an excellent contour map of the Topographical Sur- 
vey, besides a compass and an aneroid. We were 
like a mariner with an excellent chart, steering his 
storm-beaten ship through unknown dangers. 

At the very commencement of our march, all 
spread out and tried to locate the trail, but the snow 
was now deep enough to conceal every evidence of 
this valuable guide. Regardless of this setback, 
our horses were assembled and a plan made to pur- 
sue our way, relying on the compass and aneroid. It 
fell upon me to take the responsibility of leadership, 
so with map in hand, I preceded at some distance 
and on foot, so that whenever a mistake was made 
I could run back and direct the men and horses else- 
where. Our route, according to the map, lay for 
several miles through an undulating country, which 
was, in fact, the very backbone of the continent. 
On one side was the deep valley of the Simpson, 
three thousand feet below, and on the other side, 
the streams which unite into Healy's Creek. It soon 
appeared that with every mountain concealed from 
view, and every high hill, even to the narrow circle 



102 Gbe IRocfcies of Canada 

of snow-covered ground near us, shrouded in mist 
and flying snow, the task of keeping a certain direc- 
tion through the maze of ridges and impassable 
snow-drifts was not easy. Several times we found 
ourselves on the crest of a precipice, overlooking 
the blackness of unknown depths, or, still more dis- 
heartening, near a lake or a stream that looked 
remarkably like what we had passed long before. 
Crossing many ridges of moderate height, we were 
often caught between deep snow-drifts, when a re- 
treat was necessary, or sometimes a perilous passage 
over the snow was tried, but fortunately these great 
snow-banks were hard in the middle and bore our 
horses up, though they usually broke through at the 
edges where the snow was only three or four feet 
in depth. Thus we marched, closely surrounded on 
every side by a thick and impenetrable gloom, in 
which various forms of strange hills and cliffs contin- 
uously loomed before us, passed by, and disappeared. 
At length, according to our map, we should come 
to a ridge or pass about 7800 feet in height, where 
certain landmarks, one of which was a small lake, 
would appear if we were right in our calculations. 
Hitherto the rolling nature of the country gave 
no certain clue, nor offered determinate landmarks, 
while our altitude was nearly uniform. Owing to 
countless reverses and delays, we might have been 
now quite turned round. It was therefore with the 
greatest interest that we found ourselves ascending 
to the crest of a ridge, seemingly like one shown on 



a IDision of Strange fIDountains 103 

the map, for the whole question would be settled 
upon looking into the basin beyond. 

Whatever interest there may have been to learn 
our whereabouts was absorbed upon reaching the 
ridge crest by a revelation of wild and gloomy grand- 
eur that I have never seen equalled. Our little 
band of men and horses were standing upon a 
craggy ledge, where splintered rocks, frost-rent and 
rough, rose through perpetual snows, making a 
tower of observation, whence we looked out on a 
mountain wilderness. Shifting winds were sweep- 
ing fog-banks and clouds far above the highest 
trees of a forest-clad valley, now faintly discernible 
through the storm. Yet they were below the crest 
of our lofty pinnacle, where our storm-beaten band 
of horses, steaming in moisture, stood darkly out- 
lined against the pale mists. No gleam of light 
broke through the lurid sky. The monotonous grey 
of falling snow had given place to heaving bands of 
clouds, for the storm was breaking. Then slowly 
and mysteriously beyond a dark abyss rose a beauti- 
ful vision of mountains clad in new snow. Their 
bases rested on unsubstantial fog, their tops were 
partially concealed by clinging mists, and they were 
apparently so far away as to seem like the highest 
mountains in the world. 

Overawed by these wonders of the breaking 
storm, the nature of the immediate country was, for 
a moment, forgotten. Then we formed a group 
around the map, its folds now broken, and the paper 



104 Zhe IRocftiee of CanaOa 

a mass of pulp from melted snow, and with com- 
pass upon it, we hoped to prove that so far no mis- 
take had been made. Some of the ridges appeared 
as they should, according to the map, but a certain 
lake was missing. We knew about where it should 
be, but unfortunately no lake appeared. Descend- 
ing a short distance to command a better view, I 
saw a lake and shouted back the glad tidings. Bry- 
ant and Steele said it was a lake too, but they did it 
so as not to hurt my feelings. I had been working 
pretty hard for the success of the day's march, and 
they wished to encourage me. What a lake that 
was, to be sure ! It seemed about ten feet across. 
Two hot days might dry it away, or a bunch of 
ponies could easily drink it up. So we had made a 
huge blunder, and it was best to go down to the 
woods and strike camp till another day. A last de- 
spairing effort led me to reconnoitre several hundred 
feet below, when I came to an overhanging ledge, 
and with wild joy beheld a fine little lake, nestling 
dark and blue on the whitened mountain side. 

Rapidly descending, our route lay along the shore 
of the coveted lake, which was located at the level 
of tree-line and was surrounded by the highest skir- 
mishers of the forest. Thence we marched through 
long, rolling meadows, in gentle descent to places 
quite free of snow. Here the trail appeared, and led 
us for miles along the very crest of the continent, by 
other lakes and streams, some flowing to our right 
into the Pacific, others, to our left, into the Atlantic. 



a perilous descent 105 

Here each swamp and ridge marked the sinuous 
border line between East and West ; between two 
oceans ; between British Columbia and the North- 
west Territory. 

The storm was rapidly breaking. Distant mount- 
ains were disclosed, and their snow-clad slopes were 
flashed with beams of sunlight through dark clouds. 
A sharp-crested mountain arose on our right, and at 
its base was a fine lake three-quarters of a mile long. 
Leaving this behind, we came to a desolate pass, 
filled with great stones, snow-covered and barren. 
This was the highest point of the day, and then 
ensued a continuous descent into the Simpson valley. 
Here we got beyond the limits of our map and like- 
wise of the visible trail. After long and tedious 
delay, we took our horses down a slope, not at all 
to their liking. Our route lay through a gulch filled 
with burnt timber, where the poor animals slipped 
and rolled their packs over their heads in a desperate 
descent of two thousand feet, until at length we 
fairly tumbled into the Simpson valley. However, 
an abundance of succulent grass for our horses, and 
hot Scotch for us, soon mended things. We were 
absolutely soaked through from our long march in 
the storm and made a late camp in burnt timber. 

\The next day, which was sunshiny and warm, 
found us at noon near the great ascent in the Simp- 
son valley. At the base of this the river gushes out 
in springs. At the top there is no water. Ascend- 
ing the steep slopes of this abrupt hill, we entered 



io6 Gbe "Rockies of Canada 

a valley that is almost unique in these mountains. 
The whole place for three or four miles is a succes- 
sion of weird hillocks of grey and whitish limestone 
of fantastic form and outline. No springs or streams 
water this " valley of the gnomes," as we called it, 
though a struggling growth of small spruces adorns the 
place and takes away its barren aspect. Our spread- 
ing line of horses appeared very picturesque as they 
followed the winding trail, which makes many little 
turns, or sudden pitches and ascents, among these 
extraordinary mounds and copses. The termination 
is at a small limestone-girt lake, which is about four 
miles from our old camp at Mt. Assiniboine. 

It seems to me that this strange valley has been 
made by a tremendous catastrophe of nature. Op- 
posite the great pitch where the whole level of the 
valley suddenly rises nearly a thousand feet, and 
also opposite the little limestone lake, where the 
character of the country changes again, are notches 
in the mountain ridge to the north, and it appears as 
though a massive fragment of the mountain, three 
miles long and from three hundred to five hundred 
feet thick, had scaled off and fallen into the valley. 
Above this lake the valley is lined with meadows 
where deep streams flow over beds of black gravel 
and then sink away and disappear. These waters 
probably pass under the broken masses of limestone 
only to reappear where the landslide ends. 

Mt. Assiniboine suddenly appeared as we reached 
the lake. The distant peak was reflected in placid 



£econfc Camp at Hssiniboine 107 

waters, which our thirsty horses disturbed as they 
drank. It was now late afternoon and there would 
have been suggestions of making camp were we not 
so near Assiniboine. So we plodded on through 
weary miles of beautiful meadow land upheaved in 
countless hummocks, very tiring to ourselves and 
horses. I kept far ahead of our party, and at night- 
fall lit a fire on the site of our old camp, shouting 
back to their answering cries as they drove our horses 
at a gallop through the woods. 

The period of four days which we spent here 
was full of interest to every one of our party, though 
certain minor accidents had changed our plans. One 
of our ice-axes had been broken by a horse falling 
against a tree., and moreover, my knapsack, contain- 
ing all my personal effects and various scientific 
instruments, had totally disappeared. Campbell, 
our packer, went back eight miles the next day, but 
failed to find it. " Did you search carefully the long, 
steep pitch," I inquired. " That is the only place I 
did not go over," said he, "because I found the 
trail on the other side and thought I would take the 
chance on this one place." So he and I spent 
the next day in further search and found my roll 
upon the long slope, with a small burnt tree caught 
in the straps, showing how it had been torn from the 
pack. 

While Bryant and Steele were climbing the neigh- 
bouring mountains, which were familiar to me, I spent 
the day in photographic work near the two summit 



108 z\)c IRocfues of Canaba 

lakes, with one of which, Lake Aline, I was particu- 
larly anxious to succeed. This pretty sheet of water 
is typical of many mountain lakes. They are found 
near tree-line in a setting of larch trees and snow- 
drifts, which latter remain until July. Fed by melting 
snow and cold springs, their waters are remark- 
ably clear, often shallow, and usually not so highly 
coloured as lakes of lower altitudes. Their chief 
beauty lies in their mountain surroundings, their 
comfortable banks lined with heather and larch trees, 
and their sinuously artistic shores. Only on the 
stormiest days are they without calms and reflec- 
tions. The ripples on such lakes of small extent 
require but a brief respite from wind to settle into 
perfect calm, or to that more delightful stage, when 
the water, still tremulous yet generally smooth, gives 
soft reflections of trees and clouds. 

The day of my return for the lost knapsack was 
spent by Bryant and Steele in an interesting manner. 
They made a partial ascent of Mt. Assiniboine, reach- 
ing a height of ten thousand feet, and exploring the 
snow fields, out of which rise the steep cliffs of the 
highest peak. Turning southward from our camp, 
they walked through open country to the base of the 
mountain, where, with rope and the two remaining 
ice-axes, they commenced a slow ascent of the snow 
and ice slope which descends from the upper glacier 
and rests on the lower. This ascent of seven or 
eight hundred feet accomplished and a short but 
difficult scramble over a water-worn cliff, led them to 



io8 



Kocfcies of Canaba 



ear, oft 
ed as lake 

in t! 

and th 

stormiest day 
The : 
require but 
perfect cal: 
the water 
soft 

f my re 



Aline, 1 was particu- 
•heet of wa 
hey are found 
es and snow- 
by melting 
remark- 



Lake Aline. 






• i. 



\t l0W( 

jet aa 
difficull over a 



arch trees, 

Only on the 

alms and reflec- 

iakes of II extent 

\ wind to settle into 

stage, when 

>inooth, gives 

knapsack was 

esting manner. 

\ reach- 

the 

the 

our camp, 

to the base of the 

e two remaining 

cent of the snow 

upper glacier 

nt of seven or 

: a short but 

iff, led them to 



a partial ascent 109 

a wide expanse of unbroken snow, which they 
traversed southward for two miles to the very base 
of Assiniboine's highest pinnacle. A projecting spur 
on an arete to the west offered an opportunity to 
reach easily a considerable altitude and command a 
view to the south. This they accomplished after 
several hours' work and attained a height of ten 
thousand feet. The forenoon of that day was nearly 
perfect. There were clouds and signs of thunder 
toward midday, and in the early afternoon they saw 
a storm in the south, and another in the north-west, 
which seemed to approach the mountain rapidly. 
Descending in haste, they had just come to the top 
of the last ice slope, when Steele's foothold gave 
way, and he fell, dragging Bryant after him. There 
was but one possible escape from a terrible fall. A 
projecting rock of considerable size appeared not far 
below, and Steele, with a skilful lunge of his ice- 
axe, swung round to it and anchored himself in a 
narrow crevice, where the snow had melted away. 
No sooner had he come to a stop than Bryant shot 
over him from above and likewise found safety. 
Otherwise, they would have fallen about six hundred 
feet, with serious, if not fatal, results. 

The storms which were promised gathered in the 
late afternoon and were followed by a night of rain 
and wind. Next morning was one of foul and fickle 
weather. Showers of hail and snow and gusts of 
wind swept wildly through the valley and shrouded 
the mountains from view. Mt. Assiniboine seems 



no Gbe IRocfcies of CanaDa 

to be a gathering place for storms. During our visit 
in 1894, we had a week of bad weather at this place, 
in the middle of July, and now again, at the same 
period of the year, fresh snow covered the ground. 

Before saying farewell to Assiniboine, some gen- 
eral remarks on this great peak would be in order. 
Mt. Assiniboine is the culminating point of a part of 
the mountains on the continental watershed. Five 
spurs reach out from the central peak and cover an 
area of about thirty square miles. Fourteen or fif- 
teen lakes, small and large, nestle around its imme- 
diate base and supply the waters of three rivers, the 
Simpson, the Cross, and the Spray. Above two of 
the valleys the mountain rises abruptly six thousand 
feet, but above the one on the north the total ascent 
is only five thousand feet. Every side of this mount- 
ain is exceedingly steep, the east face being an abso- 
lute precipice, and the other two having slopes that 
average fifty degrees. The rock strata are nearly 
horizontal, and are eroded into many precipitous 
bands which girdle the mountain, and these, together 
with the disintegrated limestone and frequent fresh 
snow, will make it a difficult prize for the climber. 
In my opinion, the south face offers the best chance, 
but it will require heroic effort to bring horses into 
that waste of burnt timber, where in 1894 Barrett, 
Peyto, and I made our foot journey. The north side, 
where the mountain has the most striking appear- 
ance and has a remarkable resemblance to the Mat- 
terhorn, will no doubt be the point of attack. This 



four Different IRoutes m 

side, moreover, offers the pleasantest position and 
surroundings for a camping-ground. 

Of the four routes to Assiniboine which are fa- 
miliar to me, the one by which we returned to Banff 
in 1899 is the easiest, and at the same time most 
uninteresting. A gap in the mountains north-east of 
Mt. Assiniboine leads to the headwaters of the Spray 
River, and a rapid descent from the elevated plain 
where our camp was to the bottom of the deep val- 
ley is the most attractive part of the journey. On 
the right, one of the most stupendous cliffs in the 
mountains towered above us as we followed the 
trail through the forest. Then after a few miles we 
came to burnt timber, which we traversed uninter- 
ruptedly for two days. Part of our route was through 
the White Man's Pass, and the white men have 
burnt up all the woods. However, the timber is all 
standing between Assiniboine and the Spray lakes, 
so that the travelling is excellent. 

From the Spray lakes to Canmore the miners 
have kept the trail in excellent condition for the sake 
of the fishing, and in proof of this we marched 
twenty miles on the last day of our journey. 

The route over the Simpson Pass and down the 
river is by far the longest and hardest way and re- 
quires five or six days' travel. By the Simpson and 
up the river, through the weird and waterless Gnome 
Valley, is shorter, but not advisable. Our route 
along the high plateau region on the summit of the 
Rockies is the most varied and interesting way to 



n2 Zbc IRocfties of CanaDa 

Assiniboine, but there is a very difficult descent of 
two thousand feet into the Simpson valley. 

There is another possible way to reach Mt. Assin- 
iboine from Banff, by following the south fork of 
Healy's Creek. I saw a gap in the mountains as we 
were descending the Spray, near its source, which 
appears to offer a low pass into the region where 
Healy's Creek rises. No trail is known to go up this 
fork of Healy's Creek and I have never been able to 
get any information from the Indians about a pass. 
Theoretically this should be the shortest possible 
route to Mt. Assiniboine, and the problem is a tempt- 
ing one to some enterprising explorer with a week 
to spare. 



CHAPTER VII 

EFFECT OF ENVIRONMENT ON CAMP LIFE— PASSING OF OLD 
CUSTOMS — HOW TO COMMENCE A CAMPING TRIP — THE 
CAMPER HIS OWN GUIDE — PITCHING CAMP— THE WESTERN 
PACKER — BILL PEYTO— A CHARACTER SKETCH — A DAY OF 
CAMP LIFE — DRIVING IN THE HORSES— BREAKFAST ON THE 
FROSTY GRASS — SADDLING UP AND PACKING — GLORIES OF 
EARLY MORNING — ON THE MARCH — FOREST DEPTHS — OPEN 
MEADOWS AND BURNT TIMBER — FORDING TORRENTS — 
SILENCE OF HIGH ALTITUDES — ORIGIN AND DEGENERATION 
OF INDIAN TRAILS — AGILITY OF PACK-HORSES — CHOOSING 
A CAMP SITE— THE INDIAN CAYUSE — SOME UNUSUAL PACK- 
HORSES — EVENINGS ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE — PEYTO 'S EX- 
PERIENCE ON THE PIPESTONE PASS — ADVENTURE OF TWO 
PROSPECTORS — STARVATION IN THE WILDERNESS — WON- 
DERFUL INDIAN TRAILING 

CAMP life in every part of the world is affected 
by environment. The kind of animals used 
to carry the provisions and equipment de- 
pends on the country. In the Rockies of Canada the 
only animal suitable to convey the explorer and his 
outfit through the mountain forests and over the 
swelling rivers that oppose his progress is the Indian 
pony. Mules cannot be used in these mountains as 
they are farther south because they lack courage in 
water, and their small feet allow them to sink deeply 

"3 



n4 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

in those swamps that the larger hoofed horse can 
barely pass over. 

.Many customs of camp life in the North-west are 
derived from the fur traders. The earliest explorers 
and railroad builders have handed them down to the 
sportsmen and mountain climbers of to-day. But a 
new element is being introduced with the rapid in- 
crease of camping parties in the Rockies of Canada. 
While bacon and beans continue to be the main- 
stay of camp fare, as of right they should, campers 
are getting into the habit of carrying preserved fruits 
and vegetables, and such other luxuries as make the 
old-timers wonder at the change of customs. The 
rugged simplicity and semi-starvation of old days are 
passing. A guide once told me that upon a certain 
occasion he called at a wayside house for a meal. 
Seeing no pepper and salt to season the coarse fare, 
he ventured the polite suggestion that they would be 
appreciated, but was considerably startled when the 
old woman held up her hands in surprise. "What 
— luxuries ! " she cried ; " pepper and salt — luxuries, 
and all for two bits ? " An instance of a similar na- 
ture concerns a hungry traveller who was invited to 
share a simple meal with a lone prospector. Nothing 
appeared on the festive board but a generous supply 
of bacon and mustard. The unfortunate guest, being 
unused to the ways of the country, declared that he 
did not eat bacon. "Ah, well," said his host, "I 
am very sorry. Help yourself to the mustard." 

Camp life in the Canadian Rockies now affords a 



1bow to Commence a Camping Grip 115 

much greater refinement of comfort and variety of 
eatables than ten years ago, just as camping out in 
the Adirondacks and eastern Canada suggests steak 
for breakfast, and even a newspaper not more than 
three days old. 

The number of camping parties that travel among 
the Canadian Rockies every year is rapidly increas- 
ing. This manner of spending a vacation will soon 
become more popular as the great pleasure-grounds 
become better known. About one-half the number 
of campers are sportsmen, and the rest are either 
mountain climbers or explorers. Many, of course, 
wander among these wilds for the mere love of na- 
ture, and for the simple and healthful life in the 
evergreen woods, surrounded by mountains, running 
streams, or placid lakes. 

Imagine, then, that you intend to make a trip into 
the mountains. You must first engage your packer 
and cook, and procure saddle-horses and a full out- 
fit of blankets, tents, and general camp necessaries. 
There are agents at Banff, the general starting-place 
for all expeditions in the eastern range, who will fur- 
nish you with horses, men, and everything needed 
for trips of whatever length or nature, and thus re- 
lieve you of all responsibility. One of the most ex- 
perienced outfitters is Tom Wilson, who packed for 
the railroad surveyors many years ago. During the 
summer season " Wilson's " is frequently the scene 
of no little excitement when some party is getting 
ready to leave. Then you may see ten or fifteen 



n6 Gbe IRoc&ies of Cana&a 

wicked-eyed ponies, some in a corral and the rest 
tied to trees ready for packing. If the horses are 
making their first trip for the season there will be 
considerable bucking and kicking before all is ready. 
Several men are seen bustling about assorting and 
weighing the packs, and making order out of the pile 
of blankets, tents, and bags of flour or bacon. The 
cayuses are saddled and cinched up one by one, with 
many a protesting bite and kick. The celebrated 
" diamond hitch " is used in fastening the packs, and 
the struggling men look picturesque in their old 
clothes and sombreros as they tighten the ropes, 
bravely on the gentle horses, but rather gingerly 
when it comes to a bucking bronco. 

A crowd of the business men of Banff, who usually 
take about 365 holidays every year, stands around to 
offer advice and watch the sport. Then the pict- 
uresque train of horses with their wild-looking drivers 
files out through the village streets under a fusillade 
of snap-shot cameras and the wondering gaze of new 
arrivals from the east. But these evidences of civili- 
sation are soon left behind and after a few miles the 
primitive wilderness is entered. Some parts of the 
mountains are more easily reached from other points 
than Banff. Thus you leave the railroad at Castle 
Mountain for the Vermilion Pass, at Laggan for the 
Pipestone and sources of the Bow, and at Field for 
the Ottertail and Kicking Horse rivers. In such cases 
it is easier to meet guides and horses at these stations 
and commence camp life there. The maps of this 



Zbc (Tamper bis ©wn (Suibe 117 

part of Canada give only a rough idea of the country 
at best, while many parts of the mountains are even 
yet a geographical blank. Then, too, the maps are 
on a scale which does not permit of much detail, so 
that what seems a short and easy journey on the 
map often proves a struggle amongst bewildering 
ranges of mountains when the trip is commenced. 
Moreover, there are as yet no guides for these mount- 
ains, and the explorer must depend in general on his 
own judgment in finding a way. This is done by 
following the great rivers which, by their relative 
position and direction, are always a certain clue. 
The several ranges of the Rockies have an almost con- 
stant trend north north-west, and south south-east. 
This fact, along with a general knowledge of the 
streams and lakes, or information picked up from the 
Indians, is the main reliance of the camper. Every 
year the packers who go on such trips gain know- 
ledge of the passes and trails, so that the day is 
not distant when there will be efficient guides for 
many of the most interesting excursions. However, 
the necessity for self-reliance and the use of one's 
own judgment in picking a way through the count- 
less obstacles of these mountains are great sources 
of pleasure. 

The camper inexperienced in the methods of the 
North-west, has much to learn. It is quite possible 
that until the first camp is made he is quite ignorant 
of what all those mysterious bags and boxes contain 
which have been transported at great expenditure of 



n8 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

horse-flesh and bad language a day's journey into the 
woods. The pitching of the first camp is a revela- 
tion to the inexperienced. After a suitable site 
has been chosen, with fire-wood and water con- 
veniently near, and a meadow not far away where 
the horses may find pasture, the men cut tent-poles 
and the cook spreads his pots and pails round a 
crackling fire. The pack-saddles and blankets are 
usually piled beneath some large tree and covered 
with a canvas sheet, — while another sheet covers 
the bags of provisions. The cook soon has several 
pots on the fire, stewing apples or apricots, making 
hot water for tea or cocoa, or perhaps cooking the 
omnipresent bean. Two boxes, called cook boxes, 
stand near at hand, and they contain cans of con- 
densed milk, all the spices and condiments, the small 
tins of preserves and pickles that have been opened 
or are in constant use, as well as the table dishes, 
plates, knives, forks, and spoons, which are no less 
necessary. It may be a week or more before the 
numerous small bags tucked away in larger ones 
have been sampled. 

While dinner is preparing and the delicious odour 
of frying bacon blends with the pungent smoke of 
the spruce-wood fire, there is time for a little study 
of our packers and cook. Who are they and whence 
did they come ? Perhaps no more interesting char- 
acter has ever appeared in this region than my old 
packer, Bill Peyto. I made my first excursion to 
Assiniboine with him and have travelled several 



n8 



Cbe IRocfties of Canaba 



nguage 
ling of 
perienc 
with 
nd a n 

: 
> reads 
he 
beneat 
h a canvas si 
bags of prov' 
s on the fire, 
water for 
^present 
stand near at hand 
densed milk, all the 
tins of 



Bill Peyto. 






journe 

amp is a revela- 
a litable site 
: water con- 
where 
t-poles 
id a 
are 

several 
icots, maki 
s cooking the 
! ed cook boxes, 
ain cans of con- 
diments, the small 
ive been opened 
table dishes, 
are no less 
before the 
nes 



priu thei 

cook. 
Perhaps 

I m 

with hin 



Jour 

ke of 

a little study 

and whence 

ig char- 

my old 

rsion to 

several 



Bill pe£to 119 

hundred miles under his guidance. Bill is very quiet in 
civilisation, but becomes more communicative around 
an evening camp-fire, when he delights to tell his 
adventures. His has been a roving life. The story of 
his battle with the world, his escapades and suffer- 
ings of hunger and exposure, not to mention the 
dreams and ambitions of a keen imagination with 
their consequent disappointments, has served to 
entertain many an evening hour. Peyto assumes a 
wild and picturesque though somewhat tattered at- 
tire. A sombrero, with a rakish tilt to one side, a 
blue shirt set off by a white kerchief (which may 
have served civilisation for a napkin), and a buck- 
skin coat with fringed border, add to his cowboy 
appearance. A heavy belt containing a row of cart- 
ridges, hunting-knife and six-shooter, as well as the 
restless activity of his wicked blue eyes, give him an 
air of bravado. He usually wears two pairs of trou- 
sers, one over the other, the outer pair about six 
months older. This was shown by their dilapidated 
and faded state, hanging, after a week of rough 
work in burnt timber, in a tattered fringe knee-high. 
Every once in a while Peyto would give one or two 
nervous yanks at the fringe and tear off the longer 
pieces, so that his outer trousers disappeared day by 
day from below upwards. Part of this was affecta- 
tion, to impress the tenderfoot, or the "dude," as 
he calls everyone who wears a collar. But in spite 
of this Peyto is one of the most conscientious and 
experienced men with horses that I have ever known. 



120 Jibe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

^In camp, Peyto always goes down to see his 
horses once or twice a day even if they are several 
miles distant, and 1 have even known him to look 
after them in the depths of night when he thought 
they might be in trouble. When the order to march 
has been given the night before, our horses are 
in camp at dawn. Quick and cool in time of real 
danger, he has too much anxiety about trouble ahead, 
and worries himself terribly about imaginary evils. 
He sleeps with a loaded rifle and a hunting-knife by 
his side. " Bill," said I, one night, upon noticing a 
row of formidable instruments of death near me, 
4 'why in the mischief do you have all of those 
shooting-irons and things here ? " "I tell you," said 
he, with an anxious look, " I believe this country is 
full of grizzlies ; 1 heard a terrible noise in the woods 
this afternoon, and besides that, they say the Koot- 
enay Indians have risen. They may come into the 
valley any night." 

A picture of a train of horses crossing an angry 
stream comes to my memory, and one animal has 
put his forefoot through the head-rope and fallen 
helpless as he is swept away by the torrent. Sud- 
denly a man leaps from his saddle, and with a sharp 
knife in hand, rushes out into a foaming swirl of 
waters whence it seems impossible for anyone to 
return alive. A flash of steel in the sunlight shows 
the rope has been cut, and after a struggle the horse 
regains the shore, dragging the man after. It was 
Peyto ! On another occasion a fast freight, coming 



a 2>a? of Camp life 121 

suddenly around a curve, surprised two pack-horses 
at a few yards' distance, but Peyto struck one on 
the head, and seizing the rope of the other, pulled 
the beast from the rails as the engine rushed by, 
while everyone else stood immovable in a paraly- 
sis of fear. 

The best idea of Rocky Mountain camp life might 
be had by following in imagination the events of an 
ordinary day. The first sound that usually awakens 
you is the tramping of horses, the approaching shouts 
and curses of the packer, and the tinkle of the bell 
mare's bell as the ponies are driven to camp. The 
packer's first duty is to get up at dawn and go after 
the horses. They may be miles away or they may 
have crossed a deep stream. After one of the tamest 
animals has been caught, the packer rides bareback 
and drives the others in at a gallop. 

By this time the imperturbable early riser has 
begun to make life miserable for his companions, 
though it may be an hour before breakfast. There 
is often found in camping parties one of those cranks 
with an old saw — as false as was ever written — 
about, "Early to bed," etc., to back him in his evil 
ways. He is up at the crack of dawn, even in these 
northern mountains where the sun shines eighteen 
hours a day. The evening camp-fire, the hot punch, 
and the good stories of adventure are all lost on him 
that he may prowl around alone in the darkness and 
frost of early morning, to the worriment of his 
friends. 



122 £be IRocfties of Canaba 

At length, however, the cook shouts — " Break- 
fast is ready" — an announcement that was heralded 
by the sound of the axe, the crackling of fire- wood 
and the sizzling of bacon. A cold wash in a neigh- 
bouring stream or lake is a good awakener. Presently 
everyone gathers around the "table," a piece of 
canvas spread on the frosty grass and flowers. Por- 
ridge and milk, bacon and beans, hot coffee and 
bannock or camp bread, with possibly some kind of 
stewed fruit, compose the ordinary fare. The hour 
immediately after is busy for all. While the packer 
is "saddling up" the cook washes the dishes and 
packs the small articles in his cook boxes. Open 
tins are provided with rough-and-ready covers and 
placed so their contents will not spill while on the 
horse's back. The large bags are tied up and every- 
thing gradually becomes ready for packing. Mean- 
while, you roll up your personal effects, toilet articles, 
changes of clothes, and make ready your camera 
and such scientific instruments as you carry. The 
tents, which have been standing so that the morning 
sun and wind may dry the dew or rain, come down 
last of all, and are rolled up as side packs. Then 
commences the real work of packing, which after 
the first day or so becomes easier. The particular 
pack for each horse is known, and everything is 
systematised. However, the constant change in the 
weight of bags, as provisions are used, requires 
some little attention on the part of the packer, be- 
cause one of the most important essentials of good 



(Slories of j£arls flliorning 123 

packing is to have the two side packs of equal 
weight. 

While the men are at work there is an opportu- 
nity to write up notes of the previous day. Fre- 
quently the frost or dew remains on the grass in 
these deep valleys till marching time, though the sun 
may have been shining for hours on the bare rocks 
and snow fields of the mountain tops. The slowly 
approaching rays creep over the forest, and at length 
the sun appears above some mountain ridge and 
pours a sudden flood of light upon the camp. I 
once saw the morning sun thus suddenly strike 
upon an upland flower-garden. A moment before 
the white anemones were hanging their blossoms 
and shrivelled leaves under the death-like touch of 
frost. A sudden splendour of illumination poured 
over the field as the sun rose above a mountain, and 
in a moment, as if by magic, the frost crystals melted 
away into pendant drops of heaven's own distillation. 
Beads of clear water dripping from leaves and tinted 
petals, made tremulous light flashings like the sparkle 
of diamonds and rubies. The calm of night still 
rested upon the field, and there was not the slightest 
air motion. But the sunlight was at work, and in a 
moment a leaf quivered, then another, and a droop- 
ing blossom made a scarcely sensible movement. 
This was the commencement of a marvellous change, 
for the hanging leaves began to straighten, the closed 
petals of numberless blossoms expanded in the sun- 
light, and in a short time the whole field of nature's 



124 Zhe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

wild flowers was full of motion, and every plant 
was quivering and leaping toward the life-giving 
warmth. What an illustration of the power of sun- 
light ! And what vitality these Alpine plants must 
have to survive several hours of frost in their mid- 
summer nights ! 

The day's journey means many new experiences. 
As the horses file along the narrow trail, the mount- 
ains seem to move majestically, changing their out- 
line at every new point of observation, and showing 
new glimpses of snow fields and rugged cliffs. 
With every great bend in the valley, or upon each 
pass ascended, there comes a long vista of strange 
mountains into view. During the five or six hours 
of the average day's travel, many incidents occur to 
add interest to the marvels of scenery. Except 
where the trail is very good the train of horses is not 
driven without the exercise of patience. In bad 
places their efforts are accelerated by torrents of pro- 
fanity that shock the tenderfoot. The men claim 
that pack-horses will not travel well unless roundly 
cursed, because it is the only language they under- 
stand. 

The monotony of riding an Indian pony during 
the slow march of five or six hours as the poor beast 
struggles over logs and through swampy places, 
fighting bull-dog flies and grey gnats, is broken by 
that endless variety and change of surroundings, 
that are a source of delight in every part of these 
mountains. Sometimes the trail leads for a time 



©n tbe (l>arcb 125 

through deep forests where the mountains are lost 
to view. In the cool depths of forest shade the 
rhododendron grows, and the moist and mossy 
ground is often dotted with the wax-like blossoms 
of the one-flowered pyrola, or the pretty violet-like 
butterwort, with its cluster of root leaves smeared 
with a viscid secretion. Some stupid fool-hen, a 
species of grouse, is more than likely to be seen in a 
tree near the trail, and proves that her name is de- 
served, when the bullets fly. She merely cranes 
her neck in stupid wonderment, till at last her head 
goes off, and then there is a great flapping of wings, 
but it is too late. The bird will, however, make a 
fine dinner to-night. 

From silent forest depths the trail no doubt leads 
alongside a noisy stream, boulder-strewn, and 
hemmed by willows and birch, or across some 
meadow, gay with scarlet painted-cups, tiger lilies, 
or forget-me-nots. Here the horses take hasty 
mouthfuls of the rich grass, as they are hurried along 
to the other side. Perhaps the border of a lake is 
traversed, and while the splashing horses move will- 
ingly, there is time for glimpses of new beauty in 
water colouring and reflected mountains and trees. 
Stretches of burnt timber break the monotony of 
the unending panorama at more or less frequent 
intervals. Burnt forests, where the trees still remain 
standing, are easy to travel, but usually the fallen 
trunks are crossed three or four deep, and every 
year adds to the number. The procession comes 



126 £be IRocfties of Canafca 

to a halt after a few yards of progress in such places, 
and you often wonder what is going forward, but 
hear only the sound of the axe for answer. " We 
were surrounded," says one writer, "by muskegs, 
burnt timber, and bad language," in speaking of 
such a place, and it is impossible to travel far in the 
Rockies without finding a similar environment. 

The excitement of fording deep streams or noisy 
torrents of the lower valleys is in greatest contrast 
to quiet travel through some mountain pass where 
an eternal silence reigns. Here, perhaps, there are 
bare limestone cliffs, guarding a turf-lined pass, far 
above the limits of trees. Scattered pools are col- 
lected in the inequalities of rocks. No sound of 
bird or insect, of running water or woodland breezes, 
breaks the oppressive quiet. The tinkling of the 
bell and the tramp of horses give the only sign of 
your passing through these desolate high valleys. 

But when trails , either good or bad, penetrate it, 
how can a country be unmapped or unknown ? 
Perhaps in the same way that the natives have made 
foot-paths through the deserts of Australia and the 
jungles of Africa, the Indians of the North-west have 
made trails through all the larger valleys of the 
Rockies. These trails which, for aught we know, 
may date from the era of primitive man, and so 
represent some of the oldest of human foot-paths, 
are used by the Indians on their hunting expeditions. 
Before the coming of white men, they were used as 
a means of communication between the Kootenay 



126 



es of Canada 



to a half ards of pre in such pi. 


and !er what i 


forward, but 


ound of the a: 


nswer. "We 




/ muskegs, 




caking of 




r in the 






ent of i 


noisy 


lower 


tesl trast 


el through 


pass w 


silence r 


taps, there are 


limestone cliffs 


lined ; 


ve the limits of tt 


ered pools are col- 



lected in the inequ^^ a r#$& /#> sound of 

breaks the appra^M* Kananaskts Lajefae tinkling of the 



and the tr 




the only sign of 




high valleys. 


. 




net rate it, 

riown ? 

made 






the 




have 


le trails h all the 1 




of the 


kies. These trails whi 




know, 


f date from the era o 




and so 


ome of the c 




oot-paths, 


le India; 




cpeditions. 


ling ot 




were used as 


n commun 




the Kootenay 



UnMan Grails 127 

Indians and the tribes that inhabit the plains, for the 
bartering of fur, game, and horses. So all the im- 
portant valleys and passes have well-marked trails 
and the side valleys inferior ones, though it is not 
always easy to find them or stay on them when 
found. A trail is subject to constant degeneration, 
for several reasons. Avalanches and snow-slides 
sweep over it, and sometimes cover a long stretch 
with broken trees and great masses of rock. New 
areas of timber are burned over every year, and the 
charred trees, after standing a few years, begin to 
yield to the wind and storms and fall across the trail. 
Rapid mountain streams often change their courses, 
cutting away new banks and undermining many 
places where trails were made. Even in the prime- 
val forest the underbrush has a constant tendency 
to choke these pathways, and aged monarchs of the 
forest die and fall across them. No one ever cuts a 
tree, if there is a way around, because every one 
assumes, very selfishly, that he may never come that 
way again. Thus the Indian trail is a narrow path- 
way, worn by the hoofs of horses, clearly marked in 
open meadows or deep, mossy forests, but ever 
winding and retreating to avoid a multitude of 
obstacles and usually disappearing altogether when 
most needed, and some steep cliff or avalanche track 
or burnt timber seems to block the way. 

A day's march is often attended by incidents 
that give zest to the work of making progress. 
Bucking ponies try to rid themselves of their packs 



128 Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

or riders. Packs come loose and must be adjusted, 
and sometimes a panic is caused among the horses 
when a hornet's nest is disturbed. Horses some- 
times get beyond their depth in crossing rivers, fall 
into muskegs up to their ears, or break a leg in fallen 
timber. Familiarity breeds no contempt for these 
agile Indian ponies, and new difficulties only cause 
renewed admiration of their wonderful skill, in jump- 
ing logs with heavy packs on their backs, threading 
the obscure trails and pitfalls of burnt timber, or 
fording the icy rapids of mountain streams. 

(The length of the march necessarily depends on 
various circumstances, though "camp rules" say 
that six hours of trail work is all that should be done 
in one day. There must be a swamp or meadow 
not far distant, where the horses may pasture, with 
fire-wood and water near the camp site. Happily 
the two latter requisites are almost invariably pres- 
ent in the Rockies of Canada. First the horses are 
tied to trees, quickly unpacked, and sent off to their 
well-earned liberty. While they are rolling on the 
grass, joyful that another day's work is ended, the 
cook builds a fire, and soon has hot water for tea 
and other refreshments, of which the details are 
unimportant, if things are served quickly, and many 
times. What is the use of putting a man in a glass 
cage, and taking his temperature and weight to find 
the heat- and energy-value of various foods ? Let 
him come to the mountains, walking and climbing 
ten or twelve hours a day, and observe for himself. 



Cbooeing a Camp Site 129 

After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal (a splendid food 
for the sedentary) he will be ravenously hungry in 
two hours, of cornmeal, after three hours, of bacon 
and bread, in four or five hours, while pork and 
beans will sustain him from six to ten hours and 
give the utmost physical buoyancy and strength. 
Tea has the greatest stimulating effect on utterly 
weary muscles and nerves. Coffee, however, is 
better in cold weather, and cocoa for an evening 
drink around the camp-fire. In my opinion alco- 
holic stimulants should be used in camp life only for 
their reviving effect after exposure to cold and 
exertion, and never before or during any physical 
undertaking. 

One of the chief essentials of a camp, after the 
question of wood and water has been settled, is a 
piece of level ground. In certain meadows and 
open places, the rich grass will afford sufficient bed- 
ding on which to spread the blankets, but usually 
some bushes or stones must be cleared away, and 
balsam boughs laid on the ground, to give the re- 
quired comfort. The cook boxes, extra blankets, 
cameras, scientific instruments, and small articles are 
tucked away in the tents, where rain cannot injure 
them, but most of the provisions are piled under 
some tree and protected by a large canvas cover, 
along with the pack-saddles, cinch ropes, and other 
camp necessaries. 

"No one can travel far on a camping expedition 
without feeling an interest in the Indian pony, upon 



130 Zhc IRockies of Cana&a 

which so much depends. The Indian pony, or 
cayuse, probably owes its origin to a cross between 
the mustang and the horses introduced by the 
Spaniards in the conquest of Mexico. They are 
small horses with very great endurance and ability, 
combined with sufficient strength for all needful 
purposes. Some of them have "glass eyes," or a 
colourless condition of the retina, supposed to be 
the result of too much in-breeding. They are raised 
on the plains chiefly by the Indians, and their only 
food throughout their days is grass. In winter, most 
of the horses are driven from the mountains and pas- 
tured among the foothills, where they paw away the 
snow and find abundant nourishment in the " bunch 
grass." The hardest time comes at the end of win- 
ter, when the snow melts and freezes alternately. 
Then the ponies must starve unless they are driven 
in and fed by their owners. 

There is as much diversity of temperament among 
horses as among men. Some are nervous and intelli- 
gent, while others are stupid and obstinate. Horses 
do not seem to do as much independent thinking as 
mules, and are slower in many feats of intellect. A 
mule may be taught to travel miles alone over a beaten 
route, but a horse will stop and eat grass at the first 
meadow. They say a mule will walk over a trestle 
bridge like a dog, while a horse will invariably fall 
through before he has gone ten yards. But in swamps 
and deep water, the horse is far superior. Almost 
all cayuses are liable to buck and kick after a long 



Some 1Hnu5uaI Ipacft^lborses 131 

period of rest. These bad habits may have de- 
scended from their primitive ancestors, in efforts to 
throw off wolves or panthers, but are now used 
with effect on riders and packs. I have seen a horse 
stand up and fight with his forefeet, and an old 
bronco-buster once told me that he had had horses 
rush upon him and try to kill him by biting and 
striking. 

Two of the most interesting pack-horses that I 
have ever known are the "Pinto "and the "Bay." 
The Pinto is a well-formed, graceful pony, with a 
light chestnut coat and irregular white patches on his 
flanks and chest. He has a long, beautiful tail and 
well-formed head, but he is so quick and nervous 
that 1 have never yet succeeded in getting a good pho- 
tograph of him. This Pinto is tame and affectionate, 
but afraid of any sudden movement, because, no 
doubt, some former owner had abused him. The 
Pinto is wonderfully intelligent, and as Peyto says, 
"knows more than anyone else about the trails." 
Sometimes we placed Pinto ahead and let him lead 
the procession for hours. Anyone seeing such a feat 
for the first time would find it quite incomprehensible. 
Once Pinto, when thus leading, took a small branch 
trail and left the well-defined open path. "You are 
wrong for once, Pinto, and have been caught napping 
at last," said I to myself. While the procession 
moved on, I followed the main trail, and soon came 
to a tree that had fallen across the trail and had caught 
about four feet from the ground. While I was 



132 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

examining this Pinto was about a quarter of a mile 
ahead, once more on the main trail, having gone 
round this unseen obstacle, unknown to any of us, 
but probably remembered by him from some previ- 
ous year. The Bay is Pinto's inseparable companion 
and friend. The two horses are always at the head 
of the line, and rarely allow any others to precede. 
The Bay defers only to Pinto's unusual intelligence 
and gives first place to him. Each of these horses 
carries two hundred and fifty or three hundred pounds 
on his back, while the smaller animals struggle with 
less by an hundredweight. I once saw the Bay 
clear a log three feet and ten inches from the ground, 
of his own will, under a heavy pack. These intelli- 
gent animals know all the obstacles of the trail, what 
two trees their pack will go between, what low 
branches they cannot pass under, and at a gentle 
word they hurry along, where an ordinary cayuse 
will stop to feed, or when shouted at, will run off 
into the bush. The Bay is the tamest animal I have 
ever known, and often loiters about the camp and 
pokes his head over one's shoulder as a gentle hint 
for a taste of salt or sugar. His feet are never insulted 
with hobbles, nor his head with a rope, for you may 
walk up to him any time in the pasture and place 
your arm round his great neck. 

Old Denny is a horse of another colour, a shaggy, 
thick-set cayuse, with a long coat and trailing fet- 
locks. No ambition ever stirs him to be in front, but 
on the contrary, Denny never allows any animal to 



*3 2 



Zhc 1? oi Cana&a 



uarter of 

ail having gone 



any of us, 

previ- 

panion 



examine 

ahead, 

ror 

horses are 
arely allow any othei 

only to ! unusual intelligence 

, s first place to I >f these horses 

two hundred 
his back, while the 

5 by an hundredv w the ba J 

clear a log three feu hes from the ground, 

of his own will, w Camp at the Bow /W. h f e intern- 
..^-^t^nm, - >t the trail, wha 



gent animals kno 
two trees their 
branches they cannot 
word they hurry alor 



s his h 

te of sa 
h hobbles, nor his head v 
k up to him any time i 
ir arm round his g 
1 Denny is a 1 
set cayuse, wi 
No ambition 
mtrary, Denn> 



ie trail, what 
veen, what low 
and at a gentle 
Unary cayuse 
ill run off 
' 1 have 
and 
hint 
lsulted 
you may 
e and place 



our, a shaggy, 
d trailing fet- 
e in front, but 
any animal to 



©It) H)enn\> 133 

be behind him, except the saddle-horse of some 
swearing packer who is hunting him along. Denny 
was born with an unconquerable tendency to be 
slow, and though you shout till you are hoarse, old 
Denny pursues his dignified way regardless. The 
result is that this singular animal always gets behind 
the procession, which he follows at his own sweet 
will. I have seen old Denny come strolling into camp 
half an hour after the other horses were unpacked. 
However, he is a conscientious old fellow, and never 
kicks or bucks or crushes his pack against trees. So 
he was selected to carry the most perishable packs, 
and has safely transported my valuable cameras hun- 
dreds of miles through the mountains. Peyto told 
me that Denny once had a brute for a master, who 
used to beat him terribly with a stick, till the poor 
animal would fall to the ground. After that he was 
taken to the coal mines at Anthracite, near Banff. In 
the perpetual darkness, however, Denny refused to 
work, in spite of the beatings and horrible cruelty 
that the miners practice on their horses. He next 
appeared as a pack-horse, and under the influence of 
kind treatment, became one of the tamest of the 
horses. Besides salt and sugar, which nearly all 
horses like after a few tastes, he would eat bread, 
flour, and even corn-meal, which, strange to say, 
these Western ponies do not consider proper food for 
horses. 

No matter how wild your horses may be at the 
commencement of the journey, they will become 



134 Gbe IRocIuea of Cana&a 

gentle and tame with kind treatment. A little salt 
every morning for a week will gain their confidence, 
and will save, in many ways, far more than the 
outlay. 

HThe afternoon after a day's march may be occu- 
pied in short excursions to adjacent valleys or points 
of interest in the neighbourhood, so that the period 
after dinner, when the long day ends and the camp- 
fire lights up the forest, is the best time for stories of 
adventure and for sociability. The best camp-fire is, 
in my opinion, a big one, with great dry logs that 
crack and blaze brightly and make but little smoke. 
The Indians laugh at us and say, " White man make 
big fire — sit far off. Indian make little fire, — sit close" 
— right over it, in fact, with a few sticks, like a pile of 
jack-straws — for a fire. The advantages are that there 
is but little smoke and not much of a wood-pile to 
cut. Of course there is a limit to size, and I have 
seen fires where you had to make toast or broil a 
grouse on a twenty-foot pole. A camp-fire on a dark 
night always seems most cheerful in a deep forest, 
when the cheery sparks soar away to meet the stars 
and a ruddy glow illuminates the sombre trees and 
picturesque figures grouped before the tents. 

As the chill of night came on, we often had a 
light supper, or in any event made a pot of hot cocoa, 
and under the cheering influence of this, Peyto used 
to harangue us on his adventures. With a jerk, 
sailor-fashion, at his trousers, and a playful kick at 
the fire, I can imagine him, standing in picturesque 



fl>e$to'6 jEyperience 135 

attitude to warm himself. "Well," says he, "did I 
ever tell you about my journey up the Pipestone ? " 
To our negative replies, he gives the story. " Some 
years ago a fellow by the name of S., and I, thought 
we would put in the winter on the Saskatchewan 
and trap marten. I had got three hundred dollars 
ahead, the only luck I ever had, and blew it all in on 
an outfit. You see we had a pretty big grub-pile 
besides a lot of traps, and it took a good many horses 
to tote it all. I thought we would make a pretty 
good haul by the way we sized up the country when 
I was there two years before. So we started from 
Laggan and struck for the head of the Pipestone. It 
was late in October, and there was some snow in 
the valley, but we could n't savey any such snow- 
drifts as we ran into near the summit. You know 
they say the Pipestone Pass is the highest in the 
mountains, and we were a long way above timber, 
when it came on to snow and blow worse than any- 
thing I ever saw before. The snow was five feet 
deep, and as it was our first time through, we did 
not know that we could ever reach the pass. I got 
out the shovel and cut a path for the horses, but I 
give you my word, before we had gone a hundred 
yards, the whole thing was blown full of snow again. 

I threw down the shovel and we started for Laggan, 
but by this time you could not see anything for the 
snow and wind. Neither of us could tell where the 
trail was. 1 was riding Pinto, and says I to myself, 

I I guess the cayuse knows where we are better than I 



136 Gbe IRociues of Cana&a 

do,' so I let him have his head and never said a 
word, and you may not believe it, but that horse 
took us right back to Laggan in two days." 

" Some fellows did n't have such luck as you did, 
Bill, " said one of our men, ' ' for an old prospector told 
me he was coming down the Canoe River, and was 
somewhere near the Big Bend of the Columbia, I 
think it was, when he ran across an old camp, with 
everything lying around loose, and three skeletons 
on the ground." 

This recalled the story of an expedition that went 
out into the mountains and was never heard of again, 
men and horses having apparently perished together. 
Nothing less than a great snow-slide could so com- 
pletely have annihilated an entire party. 

One of the most exciting incidents of adventure 
in these mountains occurred in the summer of 1896. 
Two prospectors, named Temple and Smith, started 
from Canmore by way of the White Man's Pass to 
reach the Kootenay country. Having come to the 
gorge of the Vermilion River, their two pack-horses, 
overloaded and exhausted by long marches, could 
proceed no farther. As a last effort, they built a 
raft, and with their entire outfit commenced a voyage 
down the river, after abandoning the poor horses to 
their fate. It was not long before the raft came to 
very rough water and was wrecked in the rapids of 
the treacherous stream. The men reached the shore 
after the greatest effort, but, unfortunately, each 
on opposite sides of the river. After considerable 



adventure of Zw prospectors 137 

shouting, one to the other, neither would consent to 
attempt to cross it, and the two separated in the heart 
of the wilderness, having saved neither food nor 
blankets from the wreck, nor firearms to procure 
game. Leaving Temple to proceed west, Smith en- 
deavoured to retrace his steps and find the horses, 
but he soon lost all idea of locality and direction. 
He wandered ceaselessly through the forests, slowly 
dying of starvation, though after several days he 
managed to kill a single grouse, which he ate raw. 
At length after eleven days, overcome with weak- 
ness, his courage failed, and he lay down to die. 
Just then he was startled by the loud whistle of a 
railroad engine, a sound that restored for a time his 
hope and strength. He came to a large river, which 
was in fact the Bow, and on the farther side saw 
some section men at work on the railroad. They 
came over in a boat in answer to his shouts and res- 
cued him from death. 

At Banff, where he was taken to recover his 
strength, he related the story of his sufferings and of 
his lost companion, about whom nothing had been 
heard. A relief party was hastily organised, consist- 
ing of the Rev. William Black of Banff, and a Stony 
Indian (our old friend) William Twin. William, with 
that wonderful power that the Indians alone seem to 
possess, of observing the faintest signs, followed the 
track of the rescued prospector up Healy's Creek, 
over the Simpson Pass to the Vermilion River, and 
thence to the place where the fatal raft had been 



138 Gbe IRockies of Canaba 

wrecked. One of the horses was found here, and 
then, crossing the river, he took up the trail of the 
other prospector. With marvellous skill he led the 
way, even where the hard ground or solid rock pre- 
served no apparent footmarks. In one place he 
crossed a river on a log-jam, saying, as he pointed to 
the smooth logs : "Me see him trail — he go here — 
he go here," and in fact footprints appeared in the 
sand on the other side. The trail led them in two days 
more to the stage road on the Columbia, and they sur- 
mised that Temple had reached safety, as indeed 
was the case. Strangely enough, he had not men- 
tioned their adventure or told about leaving his com- 
panion, who came so near perishing, and only escaped 
death by the merest chance. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE ATHABASCA PASS — DAVID DOUGLAS NAMES MT. BROWN 
AND MT. HOOKER — COLEMAN AND STUART'S EXPEDITION — 
A NEW ROUTE PLANNED — OUR HORSES FALL IN A MUSKEG 
— THE UPPER BOW LAKE — DISCOVERY OF FIRE IN THE 
FOREST — SURROUNDED BY BURNING TREES — INDIAN SU- 
PERSTITION ABOUT THE NORTH FORK — DISCOVERY OF A 
PASS INTO THE ATHABASCA COUNTRY — WE KILL A BEAR — 
REACH FORTRESS LAKE AND BUILD A RAFT — MEASURING 
THE HIGHEST MOUNTAINS — A BIVOUAC IN THE RAIN — 
SHORT RATIONS AND A DASH FOR CIVILISATION — STRANGE 
ADVENTURE OF OUR DOG 

ABOUT one hundred miles north of the railroad 
lies the Athabasca Pass, famous in the early 
days of the enterprising North-west Fur 
Company. Alexander Mackenzie discovered in 1793 
a pass across the Rockies by following the Peace 
River farther north, but the Athabasca and Yellow 
Head passes were apparently more popular, as they 
were in the line of general travel, and offered a route 
between the headwaters of the Athabasca and Col- 
umbia Rivers. In fact, no other passes were known 
across the Rockies in those early times. For many 
years two very high peaks, Mt. Brown and Mt. 

Hooker, were supposed to stand on either side of 

139 



140 JLhc IRockies of Canaba 

the Athabasca Pass, and were believed to be the 
highest mountains in North America. Even to-day 
our best atlases place their height at about sixteen 
thousand feet. When Ross Cox, in 1817, was beat- 
ing a retreat through this region, from the little col- 
ony of Astoria near the mouth of the Columbia, his 
motley crew, embracing many strange nationalities 
and characters, found themselves surrounded by all 
the grandeur of the Athabasca Pass. One of the 
voyageurs, after a long period of silent wonder and 
admiration, exclaimed: "I'll take my oath, my 
dear friends, that God Almighty never made such a 
place." 

The botanist, David Douglas, travelled through 
the Athabasca Pass in 1827 and gave the names and 
the estimates of height to Mt. Brown and Mt. Hooker. 
Of this region he writes as follows: "Being well 
rested by one o'clock (May 1, 1827), I set out with 
the view of ascending what seemed to be the highest 
peak on the north. Its height does not appear to be 
less than 16,000 or 17,000 feet above the level of the 
sea. The view from the summit is of too awful a 
cast to afford pleasure. Nothing can be seen, in 
every direction far as the eye can reach, except mount- 
ains, towering above each other, rugged beyond 
description. The majestic but terrible avalanches 
hurling themselves from the more exposed southerly 
rocks produced a crash, and groaned through the 
distant valleys with a sound only equalled by that 
of an earthquake. This peak, the highest yet known 



140 



Gbe ItocMee 






ass, and 

in Nor 

ises place r 

When R 

nigh tb 

ear the 

/, embracir 

rs, found tl 

eur of the A 

, after a lo 

ition, exclairr 

r friends, that G 

place." 

The botanist, D Mount Balfa^k^^ throu ^ 
. ., , thp n^mes and 



eved to be the 

Even to-day 

ut sixteen 

7 . was beat- 

ittle col- 

bia, his 

tlities 

II 

: the 

I 



;uch a 



the Athabasca Pa: 
the estimates of 1 
Of this re 



ever 
ains, t 

►tion. 
emselv 
duced a cr 
lleys with 



gave the names and 
wn and Mt. Hooker, 
ows : " Being well 
set out with 
be the highest 
not appear to be 
the level of the 
s of too awful a 
can be seen, in 
.-h, except mount- 
rugged beyond 
le avalanches 
p^sed southerly 
through the 
mailed by that 



uake. Tl est yet known 



Coleman anb Stuart's Expedition 141 

in the northern continent of America, I feel a sincere 
pleasure in naming Mt. Brown." 

The investigation of the true height of such mount- 
ains in a region of which there are only vague re- 
ports, has a fascination to the explorer, and in 1893 
Messrs. Stuart and Coleman made a journey from 
Edmonton, by way of the Brazeau to the Athabasca, 
in an effort to solve the problem. They encountered 
great obstacles in the way of fallen timber, but suc- 
ceeded, after heroic efforts, in reaching the pass. 
There they ascended one of the two mountains which 
were assumed to have such an unusual altitude, to 
within a short distance of the summit, and found 
that its height was only about 9000 feet ! 

The subject seemed worthy of further investiga- 
tion, and in July, 1896, I started with Mr. R. L. Bar- 
rett with the purpose of visiting and measuring those 
mountains. In order to add interest to our explora- 
tion, the route chosen was by way of the Bow, the 
Little and North Forks of the Saskatchewan, which 
was practically a new country, and thence, if possible, 
by some pass available for horses to the Whirlpool 
River, which flows into the Athabasca. The success 
of our expedition depended on finding such a pass. 
We could get no information about the region, as no 
white man had been up there, and the Indians are 
very indefinite in geographical matters. Moreover, 
they have a superstition concerning the North Fork 
of the Saskatchewan, and never hunt in that country. 
We made preparations for a trip of at least sixty days, 



144 Zhc IRocMes of Canaba 

We crossed a wide meadow which led by a gen- 
tle slope to the shore. The beauty of water, trees, 
and rugged mountains is here combined to make 
one of the most charming situations. Our camp 
was pitched on the border of a small lake, less 
than half a mile in length, which proved later to be 
a landlocked cove of the main body of water, and 
separated from it by a narrow channel. In the dis- 
tance, through this connecting waterway, a glimpse 
of the larger lake appeared. Toward the east, the 
small lake, upon which our camp was placed, con- 
tracts into a shallow stream, which falls a few feet 
by a succession of gentle rapids and enters another 
lake about three-quarters of a mile long. This rests 
against the very base of the glacier-bearing mount- 
ain west of our camp. The shores of these smaller 
lakes are very beautiful and varied. In some places 
they are wooded rock banks, which rise a few feet 
above the water, and are partially covered with the 
drier kinds of mosses, huckleberry bushes, and vari- 
ous heaths. In such places the water is very deep, 
and though quite clear, has a dark appearance. 
Then, in other parts, the meadow lands come down 
to the water by gentle inclination and terminate in a 
low and sandy beach. Reeds and water sedges 
grow in the shallows opposite such shores, and their 
coarse leaves almost conceal the water by their lux- 
uriant growth. The wind-swept grass of these 
swampy shores flashing in the sunlight adds another 
element of beauty to this interesting place. 




. ; 




144 



£be U 



i&a 



We cross 
tie slop< 
and 
one 



. mm 
of rger lake appear* 

lake, upon which o 
cts into a shallow stre 
by a succession of gentle 
lake about three-quastegs^a, 
against the very base of 
ain west of our camp, 
lakes are very beau 
they are wooded re 
above the water, an 
drier kinds of mo- 
ons heaths. In s 
and though quite 
Then, in other parts 
to the water by gen 

md sandy b< 

in the shallov 
eaves almost 
th. 






ihores flasl 



vhich led by a gen- 

ity of water, trees, 

ed to make 

Our camp 

ill lake, less 

iter to be 

of water, and 

In the dis- 

ly, a glimpse 

east, the 

lis a few f 
3 another 
Lake. long. This rests 
ler-bearing mount- 
es of these smaller 
d. In some places 
hich rise a few feet 
y covered with the 
ashes, and vari- 
water is very deep, 
\ dark appearance, 
w lands come down 
i and terminate in a 
water sedges 
shores, and their 
ter by their lux- 
>t grass of these 
light adds another 
nlace. 



Xittle ]fork pase 145 

Open, treeless moors, abounding in irregular 
mounds and depressions, covered with a scant 
growth of grass, stunted willows, and a dwarfed 
underbrush, extended in a gradually rising valley to 
a pass about three miles north-west of the lake. 

The view on the other side of the pass is one of 
the most inspiring in the mountains. The slope 
drops suddenly a thousand feet and discloses the 
entire length of Bear Creek valley, or the Little Fork 
of the Saskatchewan. This river takes its source in a 
fine glacier, enclosed by high and rough mountains, 
among which there are immense snow fields. From 
two arched caverns in the ice at the end of the 
glacier, a milky torrent issues, and after crossing a 
gravelly flat, enters a large lake which lies below 
your feet as you stand on the pass. This is Peyto 
Lake. Its blue waters are closely girt by a very 
densely wooded shore on every side. To the north- 
west a narrow valley stretches away in a straight line 
nearly sixty miles, which leads the North Fork and 
the Little Fork in opposite directions into the great 
Saskatchewan. 

The success of our expedition now seemed im- 
perilled by an unfortunate circumstance. From our 
elevated position on the summit of this pass we saw 
that a very extensive forest fire was raging some 
miles down the valley. The fire had started in the 
middle of a heavily timbered valley twenty-five miles 
long. Clouds of smoke were sweeping up the moun- 
tain slopes under the influence of a strong wind, and 



146 Gbe IRocfties of Canada 

at night we saw a ruddy glow with sparkling lights 
like the innumerable camp-fires of an invading army. 
Should we venture to cross the lines of this danger- 
ous enemy and compel a passage through his forces? 
Far into the night, grouped round our camp-fire, we 
discussed how fast the flames might travel, and what 
line of retreat we should adopt in an emergency. 
Having decided at length to take our chances of get- 
ting through, we descended next day into the valley. 
While on the march a remarkable incident occurred. 
As our horses were winding through a deep 
forest, a bird appeared which resembled a pine bull- 
finch, flitting from tree to tree and following us 
closely. Somewhat later, it gave the most remarka- 
ble instance of tameness that I have ever seen. Hav- 
ing followed us for about two miles, it waited in a 
tree during the bustle and confusion of making camp, 
but in the afternoon, when all was quiet, and some 
of our men were asleep, the bird became exceedingly 
familiar, walking on the ground near us and finally 
perching on our extended hands. It was soon evi- 
dent that the object of our visitor was to catch mos- 
quitoes, which were hovering in swarms around our 
heads. It pecked at a ring on my hand, at our needles, 
and in fact any metal article ; but the climax was 
reached when by accident the bird saw its own image 
in a small looking-glass which lay on the ground. 
Then, with extended wings and open bill, it uttered 
cries of rage and pecked madly at the glass in which an 
enemy appeared. Among the solitudes of mountain 



Sbe 1?ocMe0 of Canada 



146 

at night we s; 

; the in 
Should 



at lengi 

on the mai 
As our horses 
forest, a bird appeared 
finch, flitting from 
closely. Somewhat 

ble insurer tfrffe^ //& 

ing followed us for at 
tree during the bust ! 
but in the afternoon 
of our men were a 
familiar, walking 
aching on oui 
: the obi 
hich v 
It pecked at 
in fact any m 

d when by 
>mall looking- 
with extern 
and pec 



sared. 






ith sparkling ligl 

fan invading army. 

f this danger- 

his forces? 

ur nip-fire, we 

I tra\ ' and what 

urgency. 

of get- 

'alley. 

I. 

/ing us 
ost remarka- 

Rwer * ;, it waited in a 
f making camp, 
quiet, and some 
me exceedingly 
ar us and finally 
nds. It was soon evi- 
itor was to catch mos- 
in swarms around our 
and, at our needles, 
but the climax was 
its own image 
he ground, 
it uttered 
s in which an 
s of mountain 



Surrounbei) b*> Burning Zvccb 147 

forests, squirrels, finches, and whiskey-jacks often 
show unusual confidence in man, but this particular 
instance was remarkable, because the bird would 
alight on our persons even after it had been 
momentarily though gently detained several times 
as a prisoner in my hand. 

Further investigation showed that it was possible 
to get our horses through the fire, which had spent 
its energy on a large extent of green timber ; so after 
three hours' travel from camp we came to the burn- 
ing trees, where the fire was advancing slowly, as 
there was a calm. Then came several miles of the 
recently burned area, now changed to a forest of 
blackened sticks, some of which were already fallen, 
with here and there a column of smoke rising from 
smouldering moss, and everything half concealed in 
a snowy covering of ashes. At the other edge of the 
fire there was more danger, and frequently some tree 
would flash up and send a scorching heat toward us. 
We were chiefly anxious that the packs should not 
take fire and cause a stampede among the horses ; so 
for a considerable distance we drove our animals 
along the edge of a lake and frequently waded deep 
in the water to avoid the heat of blazing trees. 

After an exhausting march of six hours we made 
our camp in a muskeg, or swamp, about half a mile 
from the fire. The wind, however, which had been 
increasing for a time, began to carry the fire toward 
us, and our situation soon became alarming when 
some heavy timber began to blaze and the columns 



148 Gbe IRocfties of Canaba 

of flame, shooting hundreds of feet into the air, made 
a terrifying roar, which caused our horses to stop 
feeding. At one time a funnel-shaped whirlwind 
about two hundred feet high formed over the heated 
area and remained there a few moments. 

At the rate of progress the fire was making, we 
should soon have been surrounded had we not packed 
up and moved a mile farther down the valley. The 
second camp was made by the side of a considerable 
stream, wide enough to stop the fire ; but toward 
evening cloud banners began to form at the peaks of 
the mountains, and next day, after many weeks of 
drought, rain fell steadily for ten hours and fortunately 
extinguished for a time the fires that were destroying 
this beautiful valley. 

Forest fires usually progress slowly, the moss and 
underbrush carrying the fire along from one tree to 
another. As the fire catches among the dry branches 
of a fresh tree it sweeps rapidly upward with a loud 
roar and sends a sheet of flames one hundred 
and fifty or two hundred feet into the air for 
two or three minutes. After the branches and 
foliage have been consumed the fire smoulders 
for a long time. In light forests and a calm atmos- 
phere such fires are not very dangerous, but where 
the trees are close and a high wind prevails, the 
flames leap from tree to tree in great tongues of 
flame. Sparks and brands carried heavenward by 
a furious draught, created in great part by the fire 
itself, start the flames in a thousand new places in 



prebistoric forest ifiree 149 

advance of the main column and accelerate its terrible 
speed. Clouds of dense smoke and blasts of air, 
like the breath of a furnace, precede the flame and 
wither up the green vegetation in preparation for its 
burning. Fires sometimes travel forty or fifty miles 
an hour, and from them there is no escape for any 
living thing — man, the wild animals, and even birds 
all perishing together. Though the forests have been 
more frequently burned since the arrival of white 
men, there are abundant proofs that fires occurred 
even before primitive man came among them. Traces 
of charcoal often appear where old trees have been 
uprooted by storm in a virgin forest. Charcoal may 
be found under the roots of trees near Lake Louise, 
some of which by actual count of their rings are three 
or four centuries old. 1 discovered a gravel bank 
near the station of Cascade, a few miles from Banff, 
which gave evidence of prehistoric forest fires. The 
river has cut under the bank and left a vertical face 
of clay and gravel, in which there are several thin 
layers of charcoal fragments, and under each a band 
of clay turned red by heat. These ancient fires were 
no doubt, as is often the case nowadays, started by 
lightning. After the forests have been burned over, 
the trees begin to fall and soon make hopeless ob- 
stacles to travel. A crop of purple fireweed, rasp- 
berries, willows, and other deciduous bushes springs 
up in a year or two in the dead timber. Young trees 
also appear very soon, sometimes growing spon- 
taneously throughout the burnt tract. 



iso Gbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

A long day's march led us through miles of dense 
forest to the banks of the Saskatchewan River. The 
great valley here shows evidence of those broad 
grassy meadows which, some miles below, are called 
the " Kootenay Plains," where the Kootenay Indians 
meet to trade with the Crees and Stonies. Near our 
camp was a blazed tree with the initials of two pro- 
spectors and the pathetic legend " Raining— out of 
grub — have gone up-stream." May this be another 
mysterious tragedy of the wilderness? 

A very large tributary, which we called the 
"North Fork," comes in from the north-west and 
joins the main river about one mile above the 
Little Fork. This river is not correctly placed on 
Palliser's map, nor was there any available informa- 
tion about the region whence it comes. Even the 
Stony Indians who travel through these mountains 
know little of this river, because, it is said, many 
years ago one of their tribe was lost while hunting 
in that region, and they think he was destroyed by 
an evil spirit dwelling there. At all events, they will 
take no chances in visiting that territory now. 

Our route to the Athabasca, however, lay up 
this river, and our first duty was to find a ford 
across the Saskatchewan. A day was spent in find- 
ing a safe place, as the river was in summer flood, 
though not at its highest stage. Mr. Barrett, with 
characteristic energy, discovered a ford about one 
mile upstream, where the river spreads out among 
low sand islands to the width of nearly half a mile. 



i5° 



Sbe Tv of Carafca 



ch led 
s of the Saska 

v:h, so 1 

h the C 
d tree \ 
the pathe f 
one up-st 
tragedy of tb 
large tril 
"North Fork," comes 
joins the main rivei 
Little Fork. Thi&jj^y^ 
Palliser's map, nor w 
tion about the re 
Stony Indians v 






i miles of dense 

an River. The 

ose broad 

are called 

Indians 

ar our 

pro- 

t of 

nother 

ailed the 

rth-west and 

above the 

Fork Vail^ C f ° U 

vailable informa- 

Even the 

mountains 

aid, many 

hunting 






lay up 

ir first duty was to find a ford 

skatchewan. A day was spent in find- 

as the river was in r flood, 

t its hig irrett, with 

energy. about one 

r. wher out among 

\ the half a mile. 



Me j£nter tbe THneiploreb IRegion 151 

A sense of relief came when, the next day, 
after fording the turbulent Little Fork, we had 
crossed the main river, which is of great size at this 
point, only thirty miles from its most distant source, 
and were safely on its north side. Turning north- 
ward along a high bluff, we came in a short time to 
the North Fork, which appears to equal the so- 
called Middle Fork, or main river. About one mile 
above its mouth the North Fork flows between 
rocky banks, and there is a fall or rapid in a con- 
stricted channel blocked by immense masses of 
fallen cliff, where the water surges in foaming 
breakers and dark whirlpools. For a mile or so 
above this fall there is a fine trail through a light 
pine forest, and then comes a burnt area with trees 
crossed in such confusion that it required two hours 
to make half a mile, and we were so much delayed 
here that our progress for the day could not have 
been more than three miles in nearly six hours. 

On the following two days we advanced about 
ten miles up the valley, having a trail wherever 
there were green forests, but suffering much delay 
from burnt timber and muskegs. On one occasion, 
when marching along a steep bank of the river, a 
pack-horse stumbled among loose logs and rolled 
over into a deep pool. The horse was carrying over 
two hundred pounds of flour, a burden that kept it 
for a short time at the bottom of the river, but after 
some violent struggles it came right side up and 
climbed out. No damage was done, however, as 



152 Gbe IRocfties of Canaba 

flour absorbs water only to a slight depth, and very 
soon makes an impervious layer on the outside. 

Ten miles up the river a stream from the west 
unites with the North Fork. As the two streams 
are about equal in size, we were at a loss which one 
to follow in order to reach the Athabasca. In order 
to get a more extended view of the country, an 
ascent was made of a mountain which lies between 
the two rivers. On the summit, at an altitude of 
eighty-four hundred feet, it was seen that the west- 
ern stream takes its source in a large glacier about 
twelve miles distant. A fair idea of the branch 
streams was given by the valley openings, but it 
must be confessed that less is known about this river 
than of any other source of the Saskatchewan under 
discussion. As a result of this ascent, we were firm 
in the belief that our route did not lie up the west- 
ern branch. The other valley, however, seemed 
exceedingly deep, and canyon-like, in the very short 
distance that it was visible at all. Though the air 
was smoky from forest fires, in spite of considerable 
rainy weather of late, I tried some photographic 
work, and during a brief but fatal moment, when I 
was reaching for a plate-holder, the strong wind 
blew my camera over and broke it badly on the 
rough limestone rocks. The most fragile parts, the 
ground glass and lens, fortunately escaped, while 
the wood and brass work were in pieces. With a 
tool box carried for such emergencies, the camera 
was reconstructed after a few hours' labour, and did 



Difficulties of ffortong Wxveve 153 

excellent work later in the trip. Our men returned 
in the evening, and reported that there was a trail in 
the deep valley to the north-west. 

The next two days we advanced only about ten 
miles because of the uncertainty of the trails, the 
rough nature of the forests, and repeated crossings of 
the river. Our progress was slow, in spite of our 
custom of having one or two men explore and cut 
out the trail for the next day as far as possible each 
afternoon. In this place, the river is at the bottom of 
a narrow valley, the sides of which are smooth prec- 
ipices, adorned here and there by clumps of trees 
clinging to the ledges. Streams and springs from far 
above came down in delicate curtains of spray or 
graceful waterfalls wafted from side to side by every 
breeze. The flood of glacial waters sweeps over a 
gravel-wash in a network of channels, with the main 
body of water swinging from one side to another of 
the valley and washing against steep or inaccessible 
banks. This condition of things caused us to cross 
and recross the stream almost constantly, and, though 
the fords were in general not more than three feet 
deep, the icy waters ran with such force that our 
crossings were not without excitement. In spite of 
the best judgment and care of the packers, our horses 
got beyond their depth several times and had to swim 
across. As the saddle-horses are guided by riders, 
they rarely lose their footing, but the pack-animals, 
coming along in a bunch, confused by the shouting 
of the men and the roar of the rapids, hesitate and 



iS4 Gbe IRocfties of Canada 

often enter the river a little above or below the best 
ford, and so get into deep water. Dangerous rapids 
or a logjam below make such occasions critical, not 
alone for the safety of the horses, but even for the 
success of an expedition in case a large quantity of 
provisions is lost. Pack-horses cannot swim very 
far with their tight cinches ; and moreover the icy 
waters of these mountain streams paralyse their 
muscles very quickly. 

The trail at length leaves the river, and makes a 
rapid ascent through forests on the east side of the 
valley, so that in an hour we had gained a thousand 
feet. Through the trees we caught glimpses of mag- 
nificent scenery : the uniting streams in the canyon 
bottom, the mountain sides heavily timbered or rising 
into snow summits, and to the west an immense 
glacier, which was the source of the largest stream. 
The North Fork was rapidly dividing into its ultimate 
tributaries. The sound of mountain streams falling in 
cascades, the picturesque train of horses, each animal 
cautiously picking a safe passage along the rocky 
pathway ; the splendid trees around us, our great 
height, and the tremendous grandeur of the mountain 
scenery, all helped to make our surroundings most 
enjoyable. Above the sound of wind in the forest, 
there was presently heard the roar of a waterfall, and 
half a mile beyond we saw a large stream apparently 
bursting from the top of a fine precipice and falling in 
one magnificent leap down a great height. Through 
a notch in the mountains, there was another fall visible 



Searcb for a fl>a$s 155 

some miles distant fully twice as high as the one 
near us. It was learned later that every stream de- 
scended into the canyon by a fall and succession of 
cascades. 

We camped in a beautiful wooded valley with 
much open country at an altitude of sixty-three hun- 
dred feet above the sea. Near our tents was the 
river, which at this place is a comparatively small 
stream of crystal clear water. In the afternoon I as- 
cended, with one of the men, a small mountain 
which lay to the west of our camp. From this sum- 
mit two passes were visible, one five miles to the 
north and the other more distant and toward the 
north-west. The view to the west was more ex- 
tended. There was a large straight glacier directly 
before us, the one we had seen earlier in the day, 
which supplies the greater part of the water of the 
North Fork. At least six or seven miles of this 
glacier is visible, and it may extend much farther be- 
hind the intervening mountains. The glacier has no 
terminal moraine, and slopes by a very even grade 
to a thin knife-like edge, in which it terminates. 

The next day Mr. Barrett went off to climb, if 
possible, a mountain over eleven thousand feet in al- 
titude, north of our camp, while one of the packers 
and I started to explore the pass to the north-west. 
The other packer spent part of the day investigating 
the other pass. This division of labour was a great 
saving of time. At our conference that evening, 
which did not occur till midnight, when the last 



156 Gbe IRocJues of Canaba 

member came into camp, it was decided that the pass 
to the north seemed unfavourable as a route to the 
Athabasca. Mr. Barrett failed in his ascent because 
the mountain was more distant than it appeared. 
The pass to the north-west was more favourable, and 
on the next day we moved our camp so as to be al- 
most on the summit. The last and longest branch 
of the North Fork comes from a small glacial lake on 
one side of a meadow-like summit and at the base of 
a splendid mountain, a complex mass of rocky aretes 
and hanging glaciers. 

Fred Stephens discovered that the route which 
first appeared most promising was blocked by a can- 
yon. There remained a high grassy pass to the right, 
and here, after reaching an elevation of 8000 feet, we 
were encouraged by seeing a long valley running 
north-west, which we knew must be some part of the 
Athabasca River. Thus the most critical part of our 
expedition, the discovery of a pass between the Sas- 
katchewan and Athabasca, was safely accomplished. 

A group of very high mountains lay to the south- 
west, and the higher we climbed on the neighbouring 
slopes the more stupendous did their altitude appear, 
especially through the mystic pall of smoke from 
forest fires. I made a rough measurement of one of 
the highest of that group, but found its altitude only 
about 11,500 feet. Descending two thousand feet 
next day through the forest, our horses scrambling 
down steep slopes without any trail, we came to the 
flat gravel beds of the Sun Wapta River. Violent 



Head) fortress Xafce 157 

gusts of wind roaring through the trees, clouds of 
dust sweeping over the exposed flats, and the rushing 
swirl of torrential streams seemed to accentuate the 
wild grandeur around us. 

We pursued our way down the Sun Wapta River 
for six days and saw it become a deep boulder-strewn 
torrent impossible to ford. One day we saw a bear 
and two cubs across the river, so near the noisy rapids 
that they did not hear us. Barrett killed one of the 
cubs at long range. We got our first view of the 
muddy Athabasca from the top of a level terrace, of 
which there are three in this valley. As we ap- 
proached the ford of the Sun Wapta, a raven circled 
around our heads croaking dismally, but we got our 
horses safely across in spite of the ill omen. 

Marching six hours a day we turned due south, 
following the main river. Barrett and I went ahead 
and quickly selected a way through the timber while 
the men urged the horses at a fast pace behind us. 

Thus we plunged through ravines, up and down 
steep banks and around impassable wind-falls, being 
frequently delayed when cutting through heavy tim- 
ber. On the second day we crossed a large river 
which comes from the south-east, and three hours 
after crossing it we arrived at " Fortress Lake " named 
by Coleman and Stuart. 

This was the termination of our journey with 
horses, which had required twenty-six days' marching 
to accomplish. Ten days besides had been consumed 
in various delays, incidental to forest fires, finding 



158 vtbe IRocfcies of Canada 

fords, and exploring valleys and passes through the 
wilderness, parts of which were absolutely unmapped 
and untravelled before our expedition. At Fortress 
Lake we were so near the Athabasca Pass that any 
mountains, such as Brown or Hooker, could be 
seen and measured from the neighbouring heights. 
It remained now to lay out a base line and commence 
triangulation of the surrounding region, but before 
referring to this work, a brief description of the 
neighbourhood is in order. 

Our camp was in a grove of spruces near the lake. 
The shore is flat and rather swampy, while the water 
is shallow for some distance and very much crowded 
with a mass of water-worn tree trunks. Some had 
been stranded on the shore at a time when the lake 
level was considerably higher, and others, having 
become water-logged, were sunk in deeper water, 
where they fairly covered the bottom and projected 
their bare branches and grotesquely shaped roots 
above the surface. The lake is about one mile wide 
and apparently very long. I calculated the distance 
to a sand-bank down the lake to be five and one- 
quarter miles. A very imposing mountain lies on 
the south side of the lake, and another on the north 
rises more than five thousand feet above the water. 
But where were Brown and Hooker ? Straight be- 
fore us to the west, a massive glacier-bearing peak 
seemed at first as though it might answer for one of 
them. It was in the right place to be very near the 
Athabasca Pass, and though its height did not seem 



a Ibigb fl>eafc Discovered) 159 

great, the amount of ice which covered its entire 
east face and its distance may have deceived us. 

On August 17th Barrett and I set out to climb the 
peak north of the lake in order to discover the loca- 
tion of the highest mountains. We had a long and 
tiresome walk, through a heavy forest, and dis- 
covered a very old trail, so much blocked, however, 
by fallen trees as to be almost useless. After reach- 
ing a point about forty -five hundred feet above the 
valley, the weather became threatening, and I set 
up my camera at once and took a set of views 
around the horizon. The clouds formed constantly 
a few yards above my head, but I got the distant 
mountains, though the smoke and gloom made the 
results very poor. Barrett continued up the mount- 
ain, though the climb involved some rather perilous 
work among rotten limestone cliffs. He reached the 
summit, which is about ninety-six hundred feet high, 
where the clouds shut out everything from view. 
From my point, I could see an immense glacier, the 
source of the Athabasca, ten or twelve miles to 
the south. The clouds opened a moment and dis- 
closed what appeared to be by far the highest and 
finest peak that I had seen on the entire journey, ten 
miles to the south-west. It was a wedge-shaped 
peak, rising from a very long and precipitous wall of 
rock, which seemed to be over ten thousand feet 
high. 

The next two days Barrett and Stephens were 
occupied in building a raft, on which we hoped to 



160 Zhc ItocMes of Canaba 

reach the other end of the lake. The sound of their 
axes was continuallyheard among some well-seasoned 
dead trees, about a quarter of a mile down the shore. 
While this work was going forward, I measured a 
base line. The only level place of any length proved 
to be in the lake itself. I laid out a line of stakes in 
eighteen inches of water and set up my gradienter at 
either end. It was bitterly cold work in ice-cold 
water. From my first short base line I calculated a 
longer one, and then found the distance of the high 
mountain, which we supposed might be Mt. Hooker, 
to be a little more than seventeen miles. The work- 
ing out of the final logarithms to get the height was 
very exciting, and everyone waited impatiently, as 
I added up the final figures. ''Well, the mountain 
is over twelve thousand eight hundred feet high, 
anyway," said I, much pleased at the result, which 
would make this the highest measured mountain in 
southern Canada. The excitement of the calculation 
must have been too great for accuracy, however, as 
I found a moment later. In wandering around among 
tangents and sines, I had gotten in the wrong column 
somewhere, and after a hasty revision, Mt. Hooker 
fell twenty-three hundred feet and came down to 
ten thousand five hundred feet never to rise again, 
and our enthusiasm fell with it. 

Meanwhile Stephens and Barrett had built a fine 
and seaworthy raft. Leaving Tom Lusk in charge of 
our main camp, on August 19th we piled our luggage 
on the raft and commenced a voyage to the other end 



i6o 



Gbe "Kocfeies 



ndofth 


he sound of their 




•mewdi-seasoned 




the shore. 




sured a 


The only 


proved 


ke itsel 


akes in 




nter at 




.old 




d a 




igh 










Fortress Lake. 


tiently 




mntain 




t high, 




suit, which 




ntain in 


som 


ulation 




■ 



>ker 
idred feet and own to 

d feet ne" again, 

it. 

Barrett had built a fine 

an Lusk in charge of 

d our luggage 

therend 



Hn Interesting lDo?age frown tbe Xafce 161 

of the lake. The raft was built of about ten large 
logs, fifteen feet long, firmly bound together with 
ropes, which, shrinking in the water, became very 
tight after a short time. Branches were laid cross- 
wise to keep our blankets and provisions above the 
water, and this pile of stuff made a place for two of 
us to sit upon. The other two sat on boxes forward. 
Each of these managed an oar which had been 
roughly hewn by Fred Stephens. Some crosspieces 
nailed together and to the side of the raft with steel 
spikes, which we had brought for the purpose, made 
oar-locks. Our raft, with four of us, carried a burden 
of more than a thousand pounds. Many speculations 
were made as to the time that would be required to 
reach the other end of the lake, and these ranged all 
the way from six hours to three days. After saying 
farewell to Tom Lusk we sailed at 6.40 a.m. Our plan 
was for two men to row in alternate turns of ex- 
actly thirty minutes. The heavy raft moved with 
surprising and pleasing speed, as the logs were 
pointed at both ends. We made a straight course 
and kept near the south shore as a protection against 
the wind. The water of this lake is very clear, but 
there were a number of small cray-fish to be seen as 
we went along, and I have observed that this is 
usually a sign of the absence of fish. It is indeed a 
surprising fact that this splendid body of water has 
no fish. It is only forty-two hundred feet above 
sea-level and abounds in food, for we saw thousands 
of moths and grasshoppers floating on the water. 



162 Zhc IRockies of Canaba 

The scenery is very fine, and those of us who 
were not engaged in rowing had an opportunity to 
study the forests and mountains on either side of the 
blue lake. In about three hours we passed the 
mouth of a large stream, which comes from a glacier 
several miles south of the lake. A wind sprang up 
about ten o'clock and roughened the lake, but we 
were well protected by staying close to the shore, 
while on the opposite side, we could see the white- 
caps running. Sometimes our course led us very 
close to the rocky shores, which were covered with 
a growth of immense spruces, or in places, where 
snow-slides had swept the forest away, there was an 
impassable jungle of spreading alder, willow, and 
birch bushes. Our steady progress was a constant 
source of delight, when we thought of the infinite 
obstacles an overland scramble on such a shore 
would have presented. 

After the fourth hour of rowing we approached 
a small island having a single tree upon it. We 
passed through a narrow channel between it and the 
shore. Here the lake makes a turn to the left, and 
so brought us against the full sweep of the wind, 
which was driving a heavy surf through the narrow 
channel between the island and the rocky shore. It 
so happened that Arnold and I had just finished our 
half-hour of rowing and should have changed, but 
the wind and sea had become suddenly so rough 
that it seemed perilous to move around. In fact, for 
a time, we were a little doubtful how the old raff 



a Bivouac in tbe IRain 163 

would behave. The waves swept over her decks, 
but, fortunately, could not reach our luggage, which 
was on an elevated platform. The end of the lake 
now appeared not more than a mile and a half dis- 
tant, and as we approached, the water became 
quieter. After five and a quarter hours of rowing 
our trusty craft began to glide through a growth of 
water-weeds and rough equisetums, and finally 
scraped upon the sandy shore of the western end of 
Fortress Lake. We were delighted with the place, 
which was a hard, level bank of gravel, covered with 
an open growth of evergreens. 

Circles of Dryas, a rosaceous plant, which spreads 
over the ground from a common centre, and puts 
forth a margin of leaves and blossoms at the outer 
edge of the circle, covered the gravelly ground. We 
caught a number of small frogs and fried their legs 
for luncheon. In the afternoon, I laid out another 
base line in the lake as at the other end, and con- 
tinued survey work on the nearer mountains. 

It rained hard in the night, and though we had 
no tent, and were sleeping on the ground, we man- 
aged to keep dry by covering ourselves with rubber 
and canvas sheets. The weather was so thick with 
smoke and clouds that nothing could be done in sur- 
vey work the next day, and it looked as though we 
should be defeated in this purpose, as our time was 
limited by our provisions, both here and at our main 
camp. 

Friday, the 21st, fortunately broke clear and calm. 



1 64 Zhc IRocfties of (Eanaba 

Arnold and I took the raft and rowed to a point on 
the north shore of the lake, and then ascended a 
mountain 8450 feet high. I carried my camera and 
surveying instruments. On the summit of this 
mountain, which is a long ridge, I built two cairns 
about half a mile apart and took angles on the high 
triangular peak to the south and also on Mt. Hooker. 
The amount of work necessary in signalling, build- 
ing cairns, which should be visible from the valley, 
taking notes of angles and photographing, delayed 
us, so we did not commence our descent of four 
thousand feet until half-past six. We narrowly es- 
caped being overtaken in the woods by darkness, 
but reached the raft just at nightfall. 

I spent the next day triangulating the two cairns 
on the summit of the mountain we had climbed. 
My final results gave me 1 1,450 feet as the height of 
this peak, which is higher than all others within a 
radius of many miles. The other high mountain, 
which we supposed to be Mt. Hooker, proved to be 
10,505 feet. The results from the two short base 
lines at a distance of nine and seventeen miles showed 
a difference of less than two hundred feet between 
them. The results were based on a height of 4175 
feet for Fortress Lake, which depended on compari- 
sons of my two aneroids, with simultaneous observa- 
tions of a mercurial barometer at Lake Louise, one 
hundred miles distant. 

On the 23rd, Barrett and I left camp in a final at- 
tempt to see and photograph these mountains from 



Source of tbe Moob TRiver 165 

a nearer point, and for this purpose we set out down 
the Wood River valley. We crossed the Wood 
River, a swift, clear stream, which comes from Fort- 
ress Lake, and we had all we could do to keep our 
footing. A larger, muddy stream comes down a side 
valley, less than a mile from the lake, and joins the 
Wood River. After that it was impossible to cross 
and we remained on the south bank. We walked 
about eight miles down the valley, and encountered 
in some places a jungle, very similar to those of the 
Selkirks. The Oregon grape and mountain ash, 
which are characteristic of the western slope of 
the Summit Range, were abundant, and even the 
prickly Devil's Club appeared, much to our regret. 
There was no path except one about six inches 
wide, and no blaze marks on the trees, so that this 
is, in all probability, nothing but a game trail. We 
reached a place at length where the Wood River be- 
gins to descend into a canyon. Through a valley to 
the south, the great triangular peak rose, dimly out- 
lined in the smoky air, but making one of the grand- 
est mountain views that I have ever seen. Because 
of our low altitude, this peak rose nearly eight thou- 
sand feet above us. May not this be the secret of 
Douglas's false estimates on Brown and Hooker ? 

We reached camp at one o'clock, and made lunch- 
eon of corn-meal, bacon, and stewed apples, which 
were the last provisions we had. Our men had 
rigged up two poles on the raft, and were prepared 
to stretch a large canvas sheet between them. In a 



1 66 Zbe IRocfues of Ganafca 

stiff wind we set sail and made wonderfully rapid 
time down the lake, which is about eight miles long, 
so that we reached the lower end in three and three- 
quarters hours without the use of oars. 

We had now been out forty-four days, or three- 
fourths of the time for which our provisions had been 
calculated. Moreover, in the accident to our horses 
in the muskegs of the Bow, much of our food had 
been destroyed. An anxious calculation was made 
of every article of food left, and though we had re- 
quired five weeks to reach this place, we found pro- 
visions enough to last us only fourteen days. Two 
meals a day, and light ones at that, were the regula- 
tions put into effect at once. 

Our dog had a remarkable adventure on the return 
journey. One day Barrett decided to climb a high 
ridge near our line of march, his idea being to come 
down and join us at the other end without delaying 
our progress. Unfortunately the dog followed him 
till at a certain point the cliff became too steep for 
his climbing ability. The poor animal then probably 
returned to our camp, but of course found the place 
deserted, as we had been for some time on the 
march. No dog appeared at our camp that night, 
and a day or two later, after we had given up 
hope of ever seeing him again, we were discussing 
his probable fate, as to whether he would get 
wounded by porcupines and die of starvation, or 
turn into a wild dog and live some years in the 
wilderness. We were camped on a gravel flat 



©ur Woq'b Strange H&venture 167 

where the river, in flood, had stranded many old 
stumps of fantastic shape. In the fading twilight 
it was easy to imagine the forms of bears and 
other wild denizens of the forest amid the gnarled 
roots. 

" Say, Tom," said Fred Stephens, "does n't that 
stump look powerful like a dog sitting out there on 
the flat?" 

"I believe it is a dog," said Tom, and with 
that he called, when, to our surprise, what had 
appeared a stump wagged its tail and came run- 
ning into camp. It was indeed our lean, hungry, 
and forlorn dog. We have often wondered whether 
on finding our camp deserted on the first day he 
ran back part or all the way to Fortress Lake, more 
than fifty miles distant, and then another ninety 
miles to the camp where he found us. 



CHAPTER IX 

PLAN TO EXPLORE AN INTERESTING REGION — DESOLATION 
VALLEY — UNUSUAL AUGUST SNOW-STORMS — FIRST VIEW 
OF MORAINE LAKE — ITS MARVELLOUS BEAUTY — WE IN- 
VESTIGATE A NEIGHBOURING STREAM — ALPINE LAKES — 
SLOW PROGRESS THROUGH THE PATHLESS WOODS — A 
DESERTED MINING CAMP — FIND SOME USEFUL PROVIS- 
IONS — OUR HORSES DISAPPEAR — ALONE IN THE WILDER- 
NESS — RELIEF AT LAST — MAGNIFICENT VIEW OF THE 
VERMILION PASS — ANOTHER LARGE LAKE DISCOVERED — 
CURIOUS IMPURITIES IN THE WATER — EXPLORE TWO VAL- 
LEYS IN BRITISH COLUMBIA — A PROSPECTOR'S CAMP — 
PEYTO'S HORSES LEAVE HIM — A TREACHEROUS RAFT — 
BAFFLED BY MINERS' TRAILS — REAL SOURCE OF THE 
VERMILION 

A REGION that is sure to be popular in the 
near future lies south of Lake Louise. For 
many years it had been an object of my 
ambition to explore this part of the Rockies, which, 
though skirted on two sides by the railroad, was 
not mapped in its interior. That there were many 
wonders of natural scenery hidden away among those 
rugged peaks seemed most probable. But it was 
not till 1899 that I could arrange my plans to visit 
this easily accessible part of the mountains. It 

might be described as the Summit Range of the 

168 



XLo lEypIore an llntereeting IRegion 169 

Rockies between the Bow River on the east, the 
Vermilion and Ottertail rivers on the west, the Kick- 
ing Horse Pass on the north, and the Vermilion Pass 
on the south. It was my idea to skirt round the 
outer edge of this nearly rectangular block of mount- 
ains, whose area was about three hundred square 
miles, and to ascend every stream and valley which 
offered a route into the interior. 

To facilitate our progress through an unmapped 
and trailless region, where good nature and patience 
would, no doubt, be put to the final test in over- 
coming countless unforeseen obstacles, I reduced my 
outfit to the minimum size. It consisted of one man, 
Ross Peecock, upon whose good nature I justly 
placed great reliance, and four horses, two of which 
we rode. 

We left the chalet at Lake Louise on the 1 3th of 
August, and crossing the bridge which had recently 
been made over the stream from the lake, left the 
trail and entered the woods. Following a nearly 
level traverse, we reached the mouth of Paradise 
Valley in two hours. Our journey for the next two 
or three hours was through swampy meadows or 
heavy forests, till at length the slopes falling away 
to the south, and glimpses of new mountains appear- 
ing through the trees, showed that Desolation Val- 
ley had been reached. The woods were open and 
easy to travel. As we descended some gently slop- 
ing meadows, the grand range of jagged peaks on 
the south of Desolation Valley came into view. A 



i7o Zbe IRockies of Canaba 

few minutes later we were at the border of the 
valley stream, which flows in shallow rapids over a 
bed of rusty-coloured stones. We made camp higher 
up the valley, where the stream expands to a width 
of one hundred yards and makes a chain of pools 
decorated with low islands. A strong south wind 
and threatening sky caused us to put our tent up 
quickly, as a storm could be seen coming over the 
mountains, and in a short time a warm summer rain 
was falling. 

Showers fell during the night and developed into 
a continuous downpour all the following day. It 
grew cooler, and in the early evening a slight whit- 
ening of snow appeared on the flanks of Mt. Temple, 
opposite us. About ten o'clock at night the rain 
suddenly changed to snow. 

A foot of snow lay on the ground in the morn- 
ing and the storm continuing all day, added another 
six inches by evening. This August snow-storm, 
at an altitude of less than six thousand feet, is the 
most remarkable freak of weather that I have ever 
experienced. 

The snow-storm ceased in the night and by morn- 
ing there were signs of clearing. The snow settled 
rapidly, though there was but little sun. Overcome 
by our enforced idleness of two days, I set out in 
the afternoon for a tramp up the valley. Some years 
before, Allen and I had seen a fine lake in this valley 
from the sides of Mt. Temple, and I hoped now to 
find it. I walked about a mile and a half and came 



flDoraine Xafte 171 

to a ravine, where a roaring cascade, encumbered 
with logs and great boulders, comes out of the valley 
to the south-east. I got across on a slippery log, and 
after another mile, came to a massive pile of stones, 
where the water gurgles as it rushes along in sub- 
terranean channels. Ascending a ridge about fifty 
feet high, there lay before me one of the most beauti- 
ful lakes that I have ever seen. 

This lake, which I called "Moraine Lake," from 
the ridge of glacial formation at its lower end, is 
about a mile and a half long. A green forest covers 
the north shore, while the opposite side is overhung 
by a high precipice. Two large piles of debris 
from the mountains dip into the lake and encroach 
upon its surface in semicircular lines. An imposing 
cliff, like a Tower of Babel, makes a grand terminus 
to the range of mountains on this side of the valley. 
Beyond the water is a succession of high peaks ris- 
ing five or six thousand feet above it, with a few 
short glaciers among them. The water is very clear 
and of the characteristic blue-green colour. A num- 
ber of logs were floating on it in various places, 
while others crowded the shore and raised the water 
level by damming up the outlet stream. Part of the 
water escapes by subterranean channels among the 
quartzite and shale ledges of the moraine, and the rest 
flows out at the north-west end through an im- 
mense mass of logs. I think these trees have been 
stripped down by snow-slides and hurled into the 
lake during some recent winter. 



172 Zhe IRochiee of Canada 

At the time of my arrival the lake was partly 
calm and reflected the rough escarpments and cliffs 
from its surface. No scene has ever given me an 
equal impression of inspiring solitude and rugged 
grandeur. I stood on a great stone of the moraine 
where, from a slight elevation, a magnificent view 
of the lake lay before me, and while studying the 
details of this unknown and unvisited spot, spent 
the happiest half-hour of my life. 

Elated with this beautiful discovery, I followed 
the ridge, and after crossing the outlet stream, went 
back to camp by a different route, firmly decided 
that no time should be lost in moving our camp to 
the shores of Moraine Lake. I related my trip to 
Ross while we ate supper and picked the bones of a 
grouse we had killed. 

We were up at five o'clock the next morning. 
The weather was beautifully clear and only six 
inches of snow were left. A potentilla, a bushy 
plant covered with bright yellow flowers, which 
grew inside our tent, had cheered us for several 
stormy days. Out of the thousands of flowers in 
this valley, it alone had escaped the snow by the 
chance of our tent's protection. However, one of 
our hungry horses noticed the plant as the only 
green thing in sight and quickly consumed it. 

We reached the lake in an hour and made camp 
a short distance down the left bank. The snow 
was completely gone near its shore, because, for 
some reason, much less had fallen here than farther 



172 






^o cam 
no tin. 
the shores of 'Moraine Lake, 

Ross while we at< 
grouse we had ki 
We were up 
ther was 

ide our 

days. 
'ley, it alo 
of our ten 
ry horses 
i in sight a 
ched the 1; 
stance do 
pletely go 
on, much It 






e was partly 

nts and cliffs 

en me an 

nd rugged 

moraine 

t view 

the 

ent 

- 

to 
1 related my trip to 
kicked t 1 es of a 

k th morning. 

nly six 

bushy 

which 

eral 

wers in 

by the 

\ one of 

the only 

\ it. 

nade camp 

The snow 

because, for 

ban farther 



Its flDan>ellou$ Beauty 1 73 

down the valley. We spread our blankets on the 
ground in the bright sun, to dry. While Ross was 
putting things in order I hurried over to the moraine 
ridge with my large camera and photographed the 
lake. The effects were fine, and some misty clouds 
were rolling over the high mountain peaks. While 
I was at this Ross caught a fine trout, which we ate 
for lunch. In the afternoon we walked to the other 
end of the lake and, though the country was open, 
were surprised to find that it required forty minutes. 
From this end a narrow gorge may be seen across 
the lake, above which is a hanging glacier and an 
imposing snow mountain of great height. The 
woods in this part of the valley had been burnt over 
a long time ago. The new trees are about fifty 
years old, so that the general appearance is that of a 
green forest. Some of the trees destroyed by the 
old fire were very large, as is shown by logs three 
or four feet in diameter. 

The mountains roared all day. Repeated ava- 
lanches of snow came from Mt. Temple, and the 
long winding streams could be seen moving among 
the cliffs, attended by a noise like thunder. In the 
evening a considerable rock-slide fell on a slope 
across the lake. Several great masses of stone came 
off the mountain and descended in tremendous leaps, 
making a ripping sound like that of a cannon-ball. 
One of these struck a large stone . and burst into 
pieces with a loud report and a cloud of dust. 

The site of our camp was delightful. The ground 



174 Gbe IRochies of Canada 

was smooth and hard and had a slight slope towards 
the water. The seasoned driftwood along the shore 
made the best kind of camp-fire and the balsam trees 
behind our tent gave us fine flat boughs for our beds. 
From a large log in the lake, just in front of our tent, 
we caught ten trout in the evening. We got a long 
pole and attached two hooks to the smaller end. To 
the other, we tied a line, and then giving the pole a 
shove, it carried the hooks far out into the lake. In 
a moment the pole could be seen to move and then 
to swim away, this way and that, showing a fish 
had taken the bait. We soon had all we wanted 
and a great swarm of hungry fish appeared in the 
clear water under our floating dock. They are a 
kind of speckled trout, and the largest was seventeen 
and one-half inches long, though none were less than 
fourteen inches. We had fresh fish from the lake at 
five minutes' notice for every meal thereafter. 

A stream enters the valley about one mile below 
the lake. It comes from the south-east beyond the 
curious and impressive rock cliff, which we called 
the Tower of Babel. On the 19th we started to 
explore the valley whence it came. I carried my 
camera, and Ross our luncheon and a pail in which 
to make hot coffee. Just as we were off, the sun 
came over the mountain and illumined our pretty 
tent with a flood of light, while the dark lake and 
cliff beyond seemed almost gloomy by contrast. We 
scrambled over the log dam and the massive ledges 
of the moraine, to the other side. The woods were 



a IWeigbbouring Stream 175 

moist with night dew and a myriad drops of water, 
like rounded diamonds, were delicately poised on the 
tender leaves of the white-flowered rhododendron. 
No other bush holds so much rain or dew on its 
foliage, and to avoid the showers we used long sticks 
to shake them as we advanced. We climbed to the 
base of the Tower of Babel in half an hour, and looked 
down into a new valley. It was not far to the 
stream, and in a short time we stood upon its bank. 
Open woods made our way easy through this new 
and pleasing region. Suddenly a long stretch of water 
opened before us and disclosed a beautiful scene. 
Beyond the pretty banks of the stream, lined with 
birch and willow bushes, appeared in the distance 
an Alpine peak, fringed with a narrow border of ice 
near its tooth-like crest. In the middle distance on 
the left stood a forest, while on the right, there was 
an open grassy meadow. The shallow stream flowed 
gently in an extended channel, where the quiet 
surface, interrupted by stones or the ripples of slow 
moving water, reflected the distant peak. Every- 
thing in these surroundings helped to make one of 
the most beautiful pictures that I have ever seen in 
the Rockies. I was very anxious for a photograph 
of this spot, so while Ross lay on a mossy bank, 
I searched for a good position and endeavoured 
to group the bushy banks and mountains in har- 
monious lines. We were very much pleased with 
the place, and Ross suggested that, since the other 
was called Desolation Valley, we might call this 



176 Gbe IRockies of Cana&a 

"Consolation Valley," a name that seemed quite 
appropriate. 

On the south side of this valley is a rock pre- 
cipice, commencing with the Tower of Babel, and 
then gradually increasing in height eastward, till it 
terminates in the Alpine peak just described. The 
face of the wall is more nearly perpendicular than any 
1 have seen. Some of the cliffs, for nearly a thousand 
feet, must have an angle of between eighty-five and 
eighty-eight degrees, while the extreme height is 
about four thousand feet from the valley. 

We followed the stream for some distance and 
came to a small lake. Beyond this was another, of 
similar size, separated from it only by a narrow ridge 
of stones. Leaving Ross at the first and telling him 
to expect me back in two hours, I continued to ex- 
plore the valley. The second lake rests against a 
glacier which discharges pieces of ice and solid snow 
into the water. Some of these were floating about 
like small icebergs, and others were stranded on 
rough stones of the shore. The ripples were flash- 
ing in sunlight, and some ducks were swimming 
over the water. Among the massive ledges of this 
old moraine a few birds were flitting about, and I 
was delighted to hear again the plaintive song of the 
white-crested sparrow. This was a characteristic 
upland lake of the Rockies, where glaciers, moraine, 
and forest made a perfect picture of Alpine beauty. 1 
walked round the lake to the music of rivulets and 
the frightened squeak of picas through meadows of 



?e$&&S95l&& 3 &!& 




- 






I Cana&a 

namt eemed quite 



side of this valley is a rock pre- 

; icing with the Tower of Babel, and 

illy increasing in stward, till it 

in the Upine peal* cribed. The 

ndicular than any 
ly a thousand 
an an, 

:^rees, heigh, 

usand U 

ill lake. , of 

separated Consolation Valley, -rrow ridge 

telling him 

lued to ex- 

ainst a 

solid snow 

about 

i on 

ling 





Leaving R 


) 


me back in 




ey. Th 




lischarg 




Som 






An 
few bir 
o hear aj 
sparrow. 

he Rock 

• 
k 



this 

and I 

. of the 

• eristic 

oraine, 

uty. 1 

ulets and 

widows of 



HlpineXafcea 177 

flowers, recently covered by snow and beaten down 
by storms, but as fresh and bright in colour as ever. 
The blue sky above was flecked by snowy clouds, 
and the sun's heat made frequent avalanches of ice on 
the opposite mountain. 

I climbed more than one thousand feet on the 
ridge north-east of the lake, and saw two passes, one 
opening to the east, and the other on the left, proba- 
bly into the Bow valley. Later explorations would 
solve these problems. As I was climbing, the sky 
suddenly thickened and became threatening. The 
air grew colder and seemed to be ready for snow, so 
that as a sufficient height had been reached to com- 
mand a view of the entire valley, 1 returned to the 
lake where Ross was waiting. Here I had a delicious 
lunch of bread, marmalade, and coffee. 

We followed the stream bank and had an easy 
trip back to our camp. In the evening we caught a 
dozen trout to take with us on the next day's march, 
for it was now necessary to continue our journey 
towards the Vermilion Pass. 

August 20th. The weather was threatening in 
the morning. Bands of mist swept above the lake 
and against the mountains, driven by strong winds 
in opposite directions, making grand cloud effects. 
We bade farewell to Moraine Lake about 10.30, and 
followed the left bank of the stream, past our first 
camp, to where this valley opens into that of the 
Bow. Here we turned south, crossed the stream, 
and commenced to ascend the ridge which faces the 



178 Gbe IRockies of Canaba 

Bow valley. We soon got into a dense forest on a 
steep slope, where very slow progress was made in 
spite of much chopping of wood and urging of horses. 
Thinking it best to get above the tree-line, we as- 
cended, and for a time, had easy travel, but presently 
came to a long rock-slide, which it was impossible 
to get above or to cross. Nothing was left but to 
descend and lose all our hard-earned climb. These 
rock-slides are barren piles of broken, lichen-covered 
stones of considerable size, easy for a man to scram- 
ble over, but impossible for horses. Several hundred 
feet below we found a way for the pack animals, and 
about evening, made camp in the woods on the 
mountain side, 6600 feet above sea-level. On this 
shady north slope some snow from the great storm 
was still left. As we unpacked it commenced to 
rain, and a drizzle continued until morning. 

I had learned from Wilson that about opposite the 
station of Eldon, there is an old copper mine and 
several log shacks built by the miners, but abandoned 
long since. As it was in an upland park of great 
beauty, it seemed well to make it a camping place 
on our trip. So the following day we ascended 
wherever any obstacle appeared and gradually in- 
creased our altitude. Heavy timber and swampy 
places with moss-covered rock-slides gave us great 
difficulty. Ross and I led alternately, for it appeared 
that the responsibility of finding a way through the 
unending obstacles and of cutting trees entailed too 
much labour for either one constantly. Two hours of 



Slow progress 179 

such work were enough to exhaust all of one's good 
temper and patience. It was surprising with what a 
will and dash either of us would commence to lead 
the procession, and how, after a time, this gave way 
to hopeless despair. Then from the front something 
like this would be heard. " It is absolutely impossi- 
ble to get through here. There is a rock-slide on 
one side and the timber is piled five feet high on the 
other." "Then why don't you go ahead?" came 
from the rear. " Because I am standing on the edge 
of a cliff twenty feet high." About such times we 
simply changed leadership, and while one rested his 
nerves, the other used his in making a slow advance. 
About mid-afternoon we came to an old trail 
which descended the slope and soon led us to groves 
of Lyall's larch and upland meadows. The miners' 
cabins appeared above us, and in half an hour we 
were unsaddling our horses in this miniature deserted 
village. Some immense larches covered the ridge 
and the place was delightfully open and beautiful. 
These Alpine meadows have a wealth of colouring 
impossible to describe. In the short grass a multi- 
tude of antennarias grow ; their leaves covered with 
a whitish down, which makes a silver sheen when 
wet with rain and turns the drops to pearls. The 
square-stemmed white and purple bryanthus revels 
in these meadows, and above them the heads of ane- 
mones and the varied-coloured painted-cup, with pur- 
ple, scarlet, yellow, white, or greenish flowers, make 
a gay display of colour. These are the commonest 



180 Zbc IRocfcies of Canaba 

plants, but you will see bluebells, larkspur, vale- 
rian, forget-me-nots, and many others among them. 

After the horses were turned loose and our tent 
set up, Ross and I investigated the old shacks. They 
were low houses about twelve feet square and built 
of logs. Inside one of them were some rough 
sleeping places, strewn with boughs. There were 
two bags of flour and several others containing 
coffee, beans, or sugar. In a rough cupboard, made 
of a box nailed to the wall, were several dozen tins 
of tomatoes, condensed milk, and various condi- 
ments. An iron stove was rusting under the leaky 
roof, and the porcupines had played havoc with the 
flour and other accessible food, much of which was 
valueless. We took a supply of condensed milk, 
sugar, corn-starch, and tomatoes, to eke out our pile 
of provisions, and used some golden syrup, which 
we discovered, to flavour our flap-jacks. Ross knew 
how to make them remarkably light and wholesome. 

The other shack was dry and in far better condi- 
tion, but offered nothing to our purpose. Suspended 
by a cotton string to a rusty nail in the roof, was a 
case labelled " Five Hundred Detonating Caps," and 
a few feet away on the floor was a heavy box labelled 
"Powder," which probably contained enough ex- 
plosive to tear a hole in the mountain and arouse 
the natives from Banff to Laggan. 

During the afternoon it rained, but in the night it 
grew much colder and began to snow. The weather 
was still dubious in the morning, though the sun 



a Deserted fllMning Camp 181 

broke through the clouds by noon. I ascended a 
ridge beyond the copper mine, which was not far 
distant, to a height of eight thousand feet, and got 
a fine view of the Bow valley from beyond the 
Vermilion Pass to the river's source, a sweep of 
about forty-five miles. In the afternoon I went into 
a beautiful open vale, west of our camp, and after 
climbing the ridge beyond, looked down on a fine 
lake nearly a mile in length. It lay several hundred 
feet below, and after a rapid descent through a thick 
woods, I found myself by the shore. A small glac- 
ier and a barren pile of moraine debris were seen 
beyond the lake, while the slopes on either side were 
more cheerful sweeps of forests and green slides. 
The shore is flat and mossy, and some purple asters 
and bright castilleias made a pretty colouring among 
the rough quartzite stones and broken timber lining 
the water's edge. Two young ducks were playing 
on the blue water. 

The lake sends a considerable stream towards the 
Bow and is joined not far from the lake by another 
which comes from the open vale near our camp. I 
crossed the outlet stream on floating logs, which had 
drifted from the lake, and climbed a high ridge on the 
other side. The top of this was a mass of tottering 
cliffs, so much disintegrated by frost and weather 
that they seemed dangerous to approach. From 
this I saw another short valley, with several small 
lakes, the lowest of which is crescent-shaped. Af- 
ter sketching the streams and mountains 1 descended 



1 82 Gbe -Rockies of Cana&a 

into the valley and then made my way back to 
camp through the woods, trying to find a good 
route for our horses. The last mile to camp was 
up a beautiful torrent with grassy banks and noble 
trees on either side. One spruce was more than 
four feet in diameter. This whole region, for a mile 
or more, is a veritable park of Lyall's larch, and 
abounds in picas, marmots, and porcupines, one of 
which I came upon as I approached camp. 

Towards evening the weather thickened, and 
showers of sleet and snow fell. The moon was a 
little past full, and during the cold night, it broke 
through the clouds and mists that were sweeping 
over the mountains. The cliffs loomed dark through 
ghostly and fleeting shrouds of fog, and the sharp- 
lined shadows of the larches above us were thrown 
in bright moonlight upon our ice-covered tent. 
Rain in the morning made the fourteenth day of 
almost consecutive stormy weather, which is past 
all precedent for the month of August. Much de- 
layed already by storms, it was necessary to make 
rapid and long marches henceforth. However, a 
new contingency had arisen, — our horses had dis- 
appeared ! Ross searched for them all the morning, 
and returned about two p.m., saying he had been 
nearly to Eldon, in the Bow valley, east of our 
camp. Again in the evening we both set out, I up 
the ridge, and Ross towards the muskegs and 
meadows below our camp to the north. No sign 
of our animals was discovered. A curious effect 



i 


















1 82 mat>a 

way back to 

woods, to find a good 

ses. Tht nile to camp was 

torrent with aks and noble 

her side. Oi was more than 

diameter. Tb egion, for a mile 

veritable par larch, and 

in picas, marmot nes, one of 

I came upon as I api 

evenii; ind 
>f sleet an 
full, and 

li the clouds orm cene ' seeping 

" The evexgrecns . . . battle with storm and avalanche and 
OVer the ^^V^^Wund into those forbidding heights^m^^^ 
ghOStly m&mmttg n - dOUd WkitenS the Sround ^tf^.» ha|p _ 

lined shadows of the were thrown 

in bright moonligh overed tent. 

Rain in the mornin nth day of 

consecutive :h is past 

ent for the u:h de- 

g mar 

ency h^ dis- 

Ross se, >rning, 

about « lad been 

of our 

t out, I up 

Ross >kegs and 

our c h. No sign 

als was di urious effect 



©ur Iborses ^Disappear 183 

on our imagination was made by our trying to hear 
the bell. Both of us fancied we could hear it, ring- 
ing constantly, in one direction or another, though 
we could not agree upon the locality. 

It was useless to waste more time hunting over 
the vast extent of open country that surrounded our 
camp, so I decided to send Ross back to Laggan, and 
then by rail to Banff, for more horses, or another man 
to find our own. Owing to the cold weather I had 
no doubt we would be able to cross the streams 
which come out of Desolation and Paradise valleys. 
In the morning at eight o'clock Ross started for Laggan. 
Left absolutely alone in the wilderness for the first time, 
I spent the entire morning gathering fire-wood which 
the miners had cut, and making camp comfortable and 
neat. At night I banked the camp-fire, and in the 
morning, after eleven hours, it was still burning. 

August 25th. Fog and snow showers were the 
curtain raiser this morning. The continuous per- 
formance began at ten o'clock with a heavy snow- 
storm, accompanied by a rapidly falling barometer. 
The best weather so far at this camp has been merely 
a temporary cessation of either rain, wind, or snow. 
My two pairs of boots and a pair of slippers are 
alternately drying before the fire. When all are 
soaked, I go to bed. This performance repeated 
about ten times makes up a full day. 

Ross has now been gone for two days, and I had 
almost hoped he would return to-night. The baro- 
meter is rising steadily at last, and the highest peaks 



1 84 Zhe IRocfcies of Canaba 

are disclosed through clinging clouds. The sun at 
evening shed a pale golden glow through the larches, 
while to the east the mountains and clouds were 
bathed in a rich purple light. From near our tent 
the .valley can be seen as it sweeps down in magni- 
ficent forest slopes, making a descent of about three 
thousand feet to the Bow River, three or four miles 
distant. The railroad can be seen nearly from Banff 
to Laggan, and the Imperial Limited is in view for 
forty-five minutes, creeping apparently like a snail 
through the valley. It is getting colder, and at 
seven o'clock the tent is stiff as parchment with ice. 

August 26th. The sun shone and the barometer 
was rising. I could still hear that bell ringing, but 
paid no attention to my fancies. However, it con- 
tinued, and at length I imagined I could hear the 
tramping of horses. Then the bell sounded louder 
than ever. I got up, dressed hastily, and came out 
of the tent just in time to see all our horses come 
galloping into camp ! Ross would arrive in a few 
minutes, no doubt, and I gave the horses salt, so 
they would stay near camp. After a little, I tied 
one to a tree and made breakfast. It began to snow 
again and the barometer was falling. Why did Ross 
not come, and where had the horses been all this 
time? 

I climbed the ridge in the hope of getting a shot 
at a sheep I had seen on a previous trip, or at least 
of getting some ptarmigans for supper. I got neither 
the sheep nor the ptarmigans, but thought I heard far 



Hlone in the MUfcernees 185 

in the distance the sound of wood-chopping. Relief 
at last I Ross and someone else were coming up 
from Eldon and had horses with them, because they 
were cutting trees fallen across the trail. I descended 
into the meadow, where a coyote was hunting the 
picas and marmots, and soon reached camp. All 
was as I left it, so there was no relief after all. Ross 
had been gone nearly three days, and it occurred to 
me that he may not have reached Laggan at all. 
What if he had sprained his ankle, or met with some 
mishap in the timber and rock-slides of the pathless 
wilderness between here and Laggan ? 

I spent the afternoon writing notes, while snow 
fell outside. About five o'clock 1 heard a shout, but 
my imagination of late had been playing strange 
pranks. A moment later I felt sure I heard more 
shouting. I answered with vigour, and putting on 
fire-wood, fanned it into a blaze. Presently shouts 
again came out of the storm from the ridge above 
our camp. I replied repeatedly, for it was snowing 
hard, and a dense fog through which only the near- 
est trees were visible, and those but little beyond, 
appeared like ghostly forms, enveloped everything. 
Two riders emerged from the gloom, and I recog- 
nised Tom Lusk and Ross Peecock. I served the 
men at once with an excellent camp dinner of bean 
soup, broiled ham, tea, bannocks, and apple sauce. 
For dessert I proudly set forth a newly discovered 
dish made of cornstarch blanc mange and marma- 
lade, flavoured with Scotch whiskey. The dinner 



1 86 Zbe IRocfefes of Canaba 

was pronounced a great success, and the orange 
pudding, especially, was praised by Tom, who 
smacked the flavour of Scotch with gusto. 

I told about the horses coming into camp, and 
learned how Ross had reached Laggan in five hours 
and gone to Banff by rail that day. Here he saw 
Wilson, and returned with Tom Lusk, camping the 
first night at Hillsdale. On Saturday they reached 
Eldon and forded the Bow in four feet of water, as 
the river is very high. The Saskatchewan at Ed- 
monton is in great flood and carrying down houses 
as a result of this abnormal weather in the mount- 
ains. It snowed so hard all night that the poles 
bent and nearly let down the tent. In the morning 
there were six inches of new snow on the ground 
though the sun was struggling through the clouds. 
The brilliant mountains and the larch trees, bending 
their branches in submission to the burden of snow, 
made a marvellous but chilly picture for midsummer. 

Tom Lusk packed up and left us in the morning 
as our horses had discovered themselves. The 
newly arrived ponies and our own bit and kicked 
one another, for cayuses recognise friends or ene- 
mies in every strange outfit. Tom left us with pro- 
testations of his unwillingness to go. It would 
have been dangerous to our horses to travel through 
the woods while there was so much snow, so we 
remained in camp an entire day, and on the 28th set 
out towards the Vermilion Pass, by traversing the 
flanks of the mountains, as we had done hitherto. 



flCmgnificent tDiew of tbe IDermilion pass 187 

We followed the Eldon trail for a mile and a half, till 
we were one thousand feet below the level of our 
camp and struck into the woods. Then ensued the 
most miserable day's travel yet experienced. Slushy 
snow lay deep in the heavy forest, which, though 
green, was blocked by many fallen trees and moss- 
covered rocks, very trying to our struggling horses. 
The bush was wet, and our water-soaked boots 
were very painful from cold. Being forced by the 
nature of the slopes to ascend constantly, after five 
hours' travel, we came to the crest of a ridge nearly 
at tree-line. From this a magnificent view of the 
Vermilion Pass was disclosed. Storm Mountain 
and Mt. Ball stood in massive grandeur under a 
cloudy sky on the further side of this great rent in 
the continental watershed. A continuous green 
forest covered the pass for a breadth of four or five 
miles, sweeping up the mountains and into a fine 
valley which appeared on our right. Into this we 
planned to descend, and after a brief survey of the 
mountains, I found a shallow gully apparently suit- 
able for our purpose. Following the fresh tracks of 
a bear, we urged our horses forward, and got safely 
down to the valley bottom, making a drop of nine 
hundred feet. Here, beside a fine stream, we paused 
for a short rest. " This is God's country," said Ross, 
as he looked around on the open meadow and green 
forest which made such pleasant contrast with the 
snowy region we had recently left. Our horses 
were no less pleased than we, as was evident by 



1 88 Gbe IRocJues of Canaba 

their looks and actions. We ascended the valley 
through a succession of flat muskegs and woods, 
and in less than an hour, came to a fine lake, where 
we made camp. There was no trail, but a few blaze 
marks on the trees showed that some trapper had 
visited the place. After a hearty dinner and four- 
teen hours of work, we slept soundly through a 
rainy night. 

The weather was better in the morning, and 
leaving Ross at camp I started to explore the upper 
end of the lake and valley. This lake runs about 
north-west and south-east and sends a stream into 
the Vermilion Pass. It is half a mile wide and prob- 
ably three miles in length. One of its most curious 
features is a crescent-shaped dam of logs and tree 
roots about one mile from the lower end. This ex- 
tends from shore to shore, and probably marks the 
shallow water made by some old glacier moraine. I 
thought at first of naming the lake from this circum- 
stance, but was unable to make anything euphonious 
out of " log-dammed lake," while some of the possi- 
bilities seemed rather breezy and western. The 
water, though otherwise pure and clear, is full of 
black spots about the size of a pin head. Looking 
more closely I saw that they were apparently the 
larvae of some insect, armed with two propelling 
flippers with which they move through the water. 
Their general appearance was like the small grey 
gnats which swarm in August and September. 
Among them a few fiery red, spider-like creatures 



Hnotber large lafce 2>iscoveret> 189 

were seen less frequently. From this unpleasant and 
extraordinary circumstance, we could not use the 
lake water, but found a fine spring near our camp. 
The lake is full offish, of which Ross caught a num- 
ber while I was on my tramp. They are speckled 
trout, not so large as those in Moraine Lake. Their 
gills are uncommonly red, possibly from irritation of 
the larvae in the water. This lake at its lower end is 
less impressive than others. Some high glacier-cov- 
ered mountains appeared down the lake, but distance 
detracts from their grandeur. A long ridge with an 
even slope banded with light green where snow- 
slides had swept through the forests extends along 
the north side of the valley for several miles. A very 
high and precipitous ridge guards the other side of 
the valley and comes down close to the lake in some 
places. 

I reached the other end of the lake in an hour 
without difficulty. In one place a vertical cliff rises 
out of it, but I found a narrow ledge, where, in water 
up to my knees, I walked round its base. The cliff 
continues to descend vertically below the water's 
surface to unknown depths. A short distance beyond 
the lake is a precipice with a glacier at the top, where 
a stream makes a fall and then crossing a flat enters 
the lake. Fording this stream I skirted around the 
lake through a grove of magnificent spruces and 
climbed a grassy slope on the north. This was cov- 
ered by turf and mountain flowers. Thousands of 
bluebells, yellow composites, and several unfamiliar 



igo Zhc IRocfcies of Cana&a 

blossoms made this warm south-facing slope a lovely 
garden. I came upon a porcupine and its young off- 
spring browsing on the succulent herbs. The mother 
gave me a nervous look and ran off, basely deserting 
its little one. I was surprised at the spirit of the 
little baby porcupine, which came at me and raised 
its spines and tail in self-defence. I ascended rapidly 
on an easy incline and soon began to get splendid 
views of high mountains at the valley head. What 
were these strange peaks ? The broadening view 
tempted me to climb ever higher. I now saw the 
lake in perfect outline, and began to get better ideas 
of the streams and mountains. 

At nine thousand feet I stood on the crest of a 
ridge overlooking the Bow, but a higher peak rose to 
the north. The rough limestones and the depth of 
recently fallen snow made further progress rather 
hazardous and difficult. A beetling precipice faced 
the Bow, and a horrid chasm led down to one of 
those short valleys near our camp at the mine. 
Clouds were rolling over the mountains, momentarily 
revealing new features. Suddenly Mt. Temple ap- 
peared to the north-west. The pass below me then 
connects Consolation Valley with this one, and a 
long ridge separates the two valleys from that of the 
Bow. A gap breaks through the ridge at the head of 
Consolation Valley and leads to the little lake near 
our old camp at the copper mine. I could see the 
south side of some of the jagged peaks, which stand 
guardian over Moraine Lake, and among them lay an 



)£yplore Swo IDallepe 191 

ice-field, two or three miles long which terminates 
on a shelf above the long lake. 

My sketching of streams, lakes, and mountains, 
finished, I made a rapid descent to the valley. The 
deep snow rolled up in balls, gathered speed and 
burst below and around me as I glissaded down the 
upper slopes. Then the iron nails of my boots made 
a gritty sound on the sharp limestone of the bare 
mountain sides till I came to the herbs and dwarfed 
trees of lower level. An Alpine meadow, a rock- 
slide, and the upper belt of larches led to the deep 
spruce woods. The paths of winter snow-slides in- 
tersected these, where the spruces are swept away, 
the bushes downbent and gnarled, and the broken 
trunks of trees and great rocks hurled together in 
chaotic ruin. Here grow the mountain ash, willow, 
and great cow-parsnip. I was soon by the water of 
the lake, rippling against its mossy log-strewn shore. 
I reached camp by skirting the north shore and 
crossed the outlet stream on a long dam of floating 
trees, similar to the crescent-shaped one a mile from 
the lake's end. 

August 30th. We left the lake and descended 
the valley for two miles. Leaving the stream we 
turned to our right through the woods, in a direction 
parallel to the Vermilion Pass, so that we might 
enter the next valley to the west. We got very 
high on the mountain and found ourselves in a 
critical place among cliffs, where, by the most anx- 
ious manoeuvring, we finally led our horses to a 



i9 2 Sbe IRocfciee of Canada 

steep slope which we descended to the new valley. 
I was nearly hit twice by large stones, which, set in 
motion by the horses' feet, came rolling down through 
the trees. After a march of four hours we camped 
by a stream among some spruces more than one 
hundred feet high. 

It rained in the night and all the next day, turning 
to snow later. On the following morning there 
were twelve inches of snow on the ground, though 
our altitude was only fifty-eight hundred feet. The 
sun came out in the morning and made a great stir 
among the trees. The silence of mid-winter was in- 
terrupted by the dripping of water, and the splash of 
snow falling from the boughs. In the afternoon the 
snow had settled so much that I set out to explore 
the valley, in which there might be a lake. An hour 
of walking proved there was no lake but only a flat 
muskeg at the valley end. Among the crags and 
boulders of the higher mountains a number of glaciers 
appeared, though the clouds concealed them partially. 
Three splendid buttresses project from the cliff on 
the west side of this narrow cleft in the mountains, 
which is a valley, five or six miles long, and of nobler 
appearance than the other, but less interesting from 
the absence of any lake. 

On the 2nd of September we left this place 
which we named "Rainy Valley" from the per- 
petual storms during our visit, and pursued our way 
to the Vermilion Pass. I was surprised to see that 
the stream from Rainy Valley turns to the west 



H prospector's Camp 193 

and flows into the Vermilion River. We had been 
then for several days in British Columbia without 
knowing it. Near the pass summit, we took the 
trail, practically the first one we had been on for 
eighteen days, and followed the Vermilion River for 
two and a half hours. The weather was warm and 
fine and proved the first day without rain since 
leaving Moraine Lake. A broad valley presently 
opened to the north-west, so we crossed the Vermil- 
ion River and climbed through the woods for a mile 
or so, when Ross shouted out that he had found a 
blazed trail. Rejoiced at this discovery we followed 
it in a short descent to a swift, clear stream about 
twenty-five yards wide. Some high and jagged 
peaks, ten or twelve miles distant, reared their sharp 
summits toward the blue sky and purple clouds of 
evening. They were no doubt Hungabee and Delta- 
form, the triangular giants at the head of Paradise 
and Desolation valleys. The great volume of water 
in this stream proved that the new valley was much 
longer than any we had explored. We were delighted 
at our entrance into this unmapped country, which 
seemed full of promise in the way of discovery. 

By the river we came to an old camp, where at 
first a gruesome discovery seemed probable. Cook- 
ing utensils and articles of clothing were strewn 
everywhere, while decayed provisions and rotten 
skins of some animals gave every evidence of a hasty 
departure, or possibly death by starvation. Piles of 
copper, lead, and iron ore showed the nature of the 



194 Gbe *Rockie$ of Canafca 

former campers. Half expecting to find a skeleton, 
or some other evidence of disaster, as we poked 
among these relics, there suddenly came to memory 
a vague report of how, upon one occasion, Peyto and 
another man were deserted by their horses some- 
where in the mountains, though the exact locality 
was surrounded by mystery. This then was no 
doubt the spot. They had to walk back to the rail- 
road and cross the Bow on a hastily constructed raft. 
In midstream the raft began to dissolve away, and 
the passengers, who were paddling for the opposite 
shore with all their might, sank down into the icy 
waters of the swelling river. With head and shoulders 
above the water as the last sticks floated away, they 
reached the shore in safety. 

We camped on a hard gravelly meadow farther 
up the river. A heavy dew fell in the cold shadows 
as we set up the tent at five o'clock. The weather 
was again dull in the morning as we marched up the 
valley. Some teepee poles at various places showed 
that the Indians hunt here for wild goats. Their 
white wool appeared on the bushes, and near some 
of the Indian camps we saw a great number of bones 
and wool which the squaws scrape off the hides be- 
fore dressing them into leather. 

Leaving Ross to make camp, after we had gone 
about six miles up the valley, I set out after lunch to 
explore it further. The trail is very poor in the upper 
part of this valley. After walking about five miles I 
felt that it would be impossible to reach the end 



j£n& of tbe IDalle? 195 

before dark and decided to change my plan. If I could 
cross the stream, which was here much reduced in 
size, I could climb a long way on the opposite slope 
and possibly see the entire valley well enough to 
sketch it accurately. A log projected half-way across 
the stream, from which I jumped into the water, and 
with two or three running steps was on the other 
side. I climbed the half-barren slopes rapidly where 
grew some flowers recently uncovered by snows of 
a winter avalanche. The yellow Alpine lily — one 
of the earliest of spring flowers — was in blossom, 
together with the white anemone, whose stamens 
were all eaten off by insects, as a summing up of ad- 
versity. From a height of seventy-two hundred feet 
at five o'clock, I saw the pass which leads into the 
valley at Lake O'Hara. I recognised its curious out- 
line from a trip made some years before. On the 
north were the high mountains of the Desolation 
Range near Moraine Lake, with Mt. Deltaform tow- 
ering over all. A small lake lies part way up its 
heavily wooded flanks, but its upper precipices of ice 
and rock seemed very difficult of ascent. There are 
about ten of these sharp peaks, between nine and 
eleven thousand feet high, and as they are precipit- 
ous on the other side, and apparently very thor- 
oughly guarded on the south and east, they will 
make fine problems for future climbs. I reached 
camp at dark, after thirteen hours of walking and 
climbing. 

In the morning, we packed up and moved out of 



1 96 Zhe IRocftfes of Canaba 

this, which we called " Prospector's Valley," from the 
fact of our finding the old camp near its entrance. It 
is about fifteen miles long, nearly straight, and covered 
with green forests throughout. About one mile from 
the Vermilion, the stream becomes narrow as it flows 
between rocky walls. Then it plunges by a fearful 
fall of about fifty feet into a dark canyon. The rocks 
are white or yellow, but stained in places red or 
black by iron. The clear blue water flows swiftly 
over its white bed into a deep pool and then makes a 
leap into the dark canyon with a roar that may be 
heard for miles. After the junction of this stream and 
the other that comes from the pass, the Vermilion 
becomes a considerable river and made us choose 
our fording-places more carefully. The stream that 
comes from Prospector's Valley is larger than the 
other. After marching two hours more we placed 
our camp by an iron spring, which gives the name to 
the Vermilion River, and lies between the two great 
forks of the river. The river bubbles up in several 
green pools, and flows over the ground, which is 
stained yellow. The Indians burn this soil and turn 
it to a bright red, when it is used as a war paint or a 
simple rouge in times of peace. 

September 5th. This proved the most unsatisfac- 
tory day of the entire trip. It had rained all night, 
and the morning gave no promise of improvement. 
Crossing the swamp made by the iron spring, we 
followed certain blazes and a faint trail up the mount- 
ain side. The trail became fainter and finally ended 



•Real Source of tbe IDermilion 197 

in as thick a bush as I have ever seen. Leaving 
Ross to cut his way through, I followed the blaze 
mark to a prospector's claim. It was our purpose 
to cross over a point of land to the main Vermilion 
River, which comes in from the north-west out of a 
broad valley. This was not the trail, and after two 
hours' hard work we turned back through the wet 
brush. It seemed best to follow the river and hope 
to find the trail from a point near the confluent 
streams. We did so, but could find no evidence of 
the desired trail, and we camped in despair by the 
river. Soaked through by a cold rain, our fingers 
were so numb that we could hardly untie the pack 
ropes or set up the tents. In an hour, however, our 
camp was in order, on a bench near the water, and a 
large fire was burning briskly. For the first time, I 
was farther away from my object after making a 
day's march. 

We were near the two streams of the Vermilion, 
one of which comes from the pass to the south-east, 
while the other heads to the north-west. On Daw- 
son's map, the latter is not sketched out, and is 
called the "Main Stream." One result of our in- 
vestigations was our knowledge that the stream 
from the pass is considerably larger and longer. 
The stream in Prospector's Valley, then, is the real 
Vermilion River, as this is the longest and most 
voluminous tributary and heads near the base of 
Mt. Hungabee. The exploration of these streams 
was the most valuable work of our trip. 



CHAPTER X 

SILENCE OF THE MOUNTAIN BIRDS AND ANIMALS — LITTLE 
VISITORS TO OUR CAMP — SEARCHING FOR A ROBIN'S NEST 
— POETIC SADNESS OF THE MOUNTAINS— A CRY IN THE 
WILDERNESS — UNSEEN DENIZENS OF THE FOREST — MISTS 
AND FROSTS IN CONSOLATION VALLEY — MARVELLOUS 
SUNSET EFFECTS. 

SOME memory of early camping days, acting like 
a magnet through the years, made me again 
place my camp on the shores of Moraine Lake. 
The tent was pitched in a sheltered nook, somewhat 
down the shore, to avoid the violent wind. Our ar- 
rival was a surprise and a joy to the birds and the 
squirrels. Many speak of the absence of every kind 
of life in these mountains. One thing is certain, the 
animal and bird life is unusually silent, in harmony 
with the vast, solitary wilderness, and you must re- 
main quiet, with eyes wide open, or else miss many 
interesting things. The red squirrel chatters when 
he becomes excited, the divers, out on the lake, have 
a low, squalking note, the sandpiper is irritating with 
its nervous cries as you walk by its nest, the white- 
crested sparrow, the chickadees, and the several war- 
blers make beautiful forest music, and even the por- 
cupine, prowling about your camp in the night, calls 

198 



little IDisitors to our Camp 199 

his mate with a faint, complaining hoot, like a distant 
owl. But nearly everything else in the low forest is 
silent. The rabbits and ground-squirrels, the hawks, 
the crossbills, the strange snow-birds, the grouse, and 
humming-birds rarely make any sound, and all the 
stealthy forest prowlers, the weasels, minks, and 
martens, and larger game animals are silent and 
rarely seen. 

Besides the ground-squirrels, which occupied 
themselves for several days carrying pieces of paper 
from our camp to line their nests, our most interest- 
ing visitors were the whiskey-jacks. The slender, 
slate-coloured birds of rapid, silent flight came every 
day at dinner-time and begged for morsels of bread 
which one or two of the tamest took from my 
hand. Swooping down on the frying-pan they sailed 
off with pieces of bacon, still hot in the melted fat. 
They are so frank and honest however, such aristo- 
cratic and well-bred robbers, that you cannot resist 
sharing everything with them. One day I was en- 
joying a book in the grateful sunshine, when I saw a 
squirrel looking over our sacks of meal and hard-tack, 
where he found many an inviting morsel. After a 
time he took me also under inspection and came 
ever closer in short, spasmodic dashes. I was im- 
movable as a bronze Buddha. Then having decided 
that I was probably some queer kind of stump, he ran 
up and sniffed at my book, so close that I could feel 
his soft fur against my hand. With the slightest mo- 
tion I could have detained him prisoner. 



200 Ebe IRocJues of Canaba 

The most impressive view of the lake, where 
every element has some suggestion of the titanic for- 
ces of nature, is from the sharp-crested moraine. The 
jagged peaks which rise out of the water and pierce 
the sky are excessively steep and bold. The chaotic 
moraine itself was shattered and thrown down many 
centuries ago by an earthquake, transported for a dis- 
tance, and rudely piled up by a glacier. The vast piles 
of debris, where the mountains are slowly filling the 
lake and burying themselves in their own ruins, are the 
field of action for the mountain batteries, where rocks 
come down from the upper cliffs, breaking and ex- 
ploding amid clouds of steam-like dust as they leap 
and strike. In the woods below, I have seen the 
trees cut off or split open for hundreds of yards, 
where such a stone has ploughed through the forest 
with the force of a cannon-ball. The floating logs 
which forever drift about the lake were razed from 
the mountain and swept down into the valley by a 
winter's snow-slide. Even the green forest on your 
right where, at length, you hope, though in vain, to 
find one note of tranquillity, is scarred by an ancient 
fire. The tall poles of the former forest, rising above 
the new trees, stand out bleached and bare from 
years of storm. Finally, in the elements themselves, 
there is less of peace than elsewhere, and this lake, 
the veritable abode of ^Eolus, is boisterous with gusty 
winds, as the high peaks catch the upper air currents 
from the sky and urge them down in furious blasts 
upon the shrieking trees below. But in the night 



SearcMng for a IRoMn's meet 201 

there is calm. Before the sun has scaled the rounded 
Tower of Babel and peered down into the black-green 
waters of this crater-like bowl— now become a bot- 
tomless abyss in which you see a bit of the sky 
hemmed round by rugged mountains — the richness 
of colour in rocks and water, and the dazzling white- 
ness of reflected avalanche snows, redeem a wild- 
ness that otherwise would be appalling. At such a 
moment Moraine Lake holds you spell-bound, awe- 
some in its wild grandeur, sublime in its measure of 
heights and depths. 

Amongst the great ledges, I espied one day a rob- 
in, carrying food in its bill, a pretty sure sign of a 
nest in the vicinity. Though the birds are quite 
common, no nest, so far as I know, has ever been 
discovered in these mountains. So I traced it to a 
cavernous pile of rocks where I heard the answering 
chirp of young birds. After wedging myself down into 
a narrow crevice I made a discovery. There, under a 
great rock, was a pica's winter store of fresh gathered 
herbs and flowers — arnica blossoms, everlastings, 
gentians, and even the prickly branchlets of the wild 
gooseberry. What did the little chinchilla-like ani- 
mal want of such thorny food? Meanwhile the rob- 
in, much disturbed by my presence, had flown away, 
and the young birds instinctively hushed their cries, 
but I could never locate them even on later visits. 

From the moraine you look northwards many 
miles to distant mountains across the Bow Valley. 
In daytime the overpowering attractions of the 



202 Zhe IRocfcies of Canaba 

lake claim your attention, but the soft colours of 
evening make you now suddenly aware of this other 
scene well worthy of study. As the shadows length- 
en over the far-off ledges, there is something pecul- 
iarly sad and melancholy in those distant mountains. 
It is hard to analyse this impression. The melancholy 
of the grey sea, or of the yellow, arid desert, is 
different. Nor is this emotion, though largely due to 
the natural beauty of distance and colour, as seen in 
soft twilight, quite the beauty that Poe says "in its 
supreme development invariably excites the sensitive 
soul to tears." They give rather a powerful impres- 
sion of separateness and utter loneliness, perhaps be- 
cause they represent a remote antiquity long before 
the age of man, and a vast unknown future, entirely 
apart from all human interests and comprehension. 

We were camped at Moraine Lake many days, fre- 
quently making excursions to nearby valleys, having 
our midday lunches under the trees by some rippling 
stream. Our menu, of bacon, bannock, and tea was 
of the simplest, yet how delicious is such rough fare 
amidst the mountain breezes and sunshine! Once 
we used slabs of slate rocks for plates and carved out 
crude wooden spoons from splinters of an avalanche- 
broken tree. One cannot help but contrast this sim- 
plicity of life with its opposite extreme, the ultra 
refinements of luxury — choice dishes of a French 
chef, rare wines, the soft glow of artificial lights, the 
fragrant perfume of roses, and the strains of sweet 
music. Here, in the mountains, there is no culinary 



Tllnseen 2>eni3en6 of tbe Jforest 203 

art to speak of, no service except when Jim bales 
up a pail of water to make the tea, no wine but 
heaven's sparkling distillation from a melting snow 
bank, no flowers but the wild asters and heaths, 
and no music but the purling rivulet and the songs 
of birds. 

I moved over to Consolation Valley and camped 
there some days, finding a respite from the raw 
winds of the lake. Our camp was in a dry, clean 
place amongst the trees and commanded an excel- 
lent view up the broad stream which leads the eye 
to the splendid Alpine peaks at the valley end. Here 
Jim spent much time fishing in the lakes where the 
speckled trout are gamy and abundant. In one place 
the fish may be landed on a bank of perpetual snow. 
Among the great rock slides of this place a friend of 
mine had a remarkable experience some years ago. 
He was alone, following us down the valley, some 
distance behind, when he was startled and nearly 
paralyzed with fear by a sudden, piercing scream, 
like that of a woman being murdered. This terrifying 
and blood-curdling cry could be traced to no visible 
source. We discussed the matter that night around 
our camp fire. The only possible explanation was 
that a mountain lion had been stealthily following us 
as their custom is, and that, being surprised himself 
by the last member of our party, had uttered that 
fearful cry in fear or rage. It is almost uncanny to 
think that these and other denizens of the forest are 
around us, often, no doubt, peering at us as we sit 



2o 4 Zhe IRocfties of Cana&a 

round the camp fire at night, so stealthily that we 
are perfectly unaware of them. 

Consolation Valley is cold, for the sun has a long 
climb to reach the eastern valley rim and in mid-after- 
noon it descends behind the wall-like Tower of Babel 
and pours its genial rays on more favoured places. 
The nights were bitter and in the morning the mead- 
ows were white with hoar-frost. One day the east 
wind brought in smoke from a forest fire which 
poured through the passes and covered the valley floor 
like a heavy gas. That night at sunset the smoke in- 
creased and the trees and mountains were distorted 
to a monstrous size. The clouds rolling over the 
snowy crests were illumined by a fiery glow as from 
some unseen conflagration. A little later, a veil of 
softest cloud took on the colours of opal and shell 
pink, that beautiful colour on the lustrous interior of 
conch shells, which many a time I have seen and ad- 
mired on the burning shores and white coral sands of 
the Caribbean Sea. 

In the north, the entire sky was overcast with dark 
clouds, while the vast sweep of the Bow Valley with 
its endless miles of unbroken forest, plunged in the 
gloom of heavy shadow, appeared like a distant, 
stormy sea. Here and there a suspended fragment 
caught the dull red glow of sunset and resembled 
the glare of volcanic fires. 



CHAPTER XI 

AN IDEAL CAMP — SPRINGTIME IN THE ALPINE MEADOWS — 
THE SCARLET PAINTED CUP — WHERE WILD ASTERS GROW 
— A REMARKABLE MOUNTAIN TARN — IMPRESSIVENESS OF 
WENKCHEMNA LAKE — PHOTOGRAPHIC IDEALS — DIFFICUL- 
TIES OF LANDSCAPE WORK — ARTISTIC QUALITIES OF 
LAKES AND RIVERS — FLEETING OPPORTUNITIES — NEED OF 
JUDGMENT AND DECISION — ANIMAL LIFE OF THE UPPER 
MEADOWS — TRAITS OF THE PTARMIGAN — PLAYGROUND 
OF THE PICAS AND MARMOTS — PREHISTORIC EARTHQUAKES 
AND BEAR-DEN MORAINES — THE ORIGINAL DESOLATION 
VALLEY — A MYSTERY OF THE MORAINE 

AFTER spending several weeks at Moraine Lake I 
moved up the valley with the idea of camping 
on the shores of a small lake where some 
years previously I had seen marvellous views. When 
already in sight of our goal we found the way blocked 
by a rock-slide, impassable for the pack-horses, and so 
had to retrace our steps and finally camp in a grove 
of larches some two miles below the lake. It was at 
first a bitter disappointment not to pitch our tent on 
the shores of this wild tarn, but I was soon reconciled, 
for the new camp turned out to be the most ideal 
that I recall in all my experience. That we were 
about 7000 feet above sea level was indicated by the 

open groves around us. At this altitude, where they 

205 



206 Zhc IRocfties of Canaba 

have plenty of room, the spruce trees assume a noble 
habit of trunk and symmetry of branches and reach 
a remarkable age, secure from the ravages of fire and 
other dangers of the crowded forest. A near-by riv- 
ulet supplied us with the coldest and most delicious 
water which had just enough exposure to air and 
vegetation to make it thoroughly palatable. Some 
of the coldest springs in the high mountains which 
come from melted snow are, from their excessive 
purity, flat and tasteless as distilled water. In every 
direction we had glimpses of mountains rising above 
soft needled larch groves. Jim, who was a snap-shot 
artist, was most enthusiastic and said : "You get a 
fine view here whichever way you point the camera." 
This effect was largely due to the peculiar character 
of the light-foliaged larches through which the sun- 
light passes almost without casting a shadow. 

The season had been remarkable, many long days 
of sunshine following one another in unbroken suc- 
cession. The flowering plants of these upper mead- 
ows at the end of winter always find the ground 
well soaked with moisture as the snows melt away 
in June. These are the days of spring's awakening, 
when the edge of every snow-bank melts back a foot 
or two each day under the tireless sun whose linger- 
ing twilight gives a glow in the north throughout 
the short-lived night. The splashy meadows reek 
with moisture, the rocks glisten with silvery tricklings, 
and every little cleft and dale sends its contribution 
down to the deep valleys where turbid rivers are 



2 06 



Cbc "Kochies of Canaba 



>f room, the spru 
k and symmet 
ble age, secure f; 
)gers of the crow 
ilied us with tl 
w :h had ju 

make it 1 
I >r ing : 
melted sn 






*es assume a noble 

inches and reach 

of fire and 

A near-by riv- 

>t delicious 

air and 

Some 

which 

. 

It"* £V 



and tastek 
n wehadglir 

wlarch « ro lila#. -shot 

w ;i$7iP^L£^ a 

fine VieW XVm&ntfXw^y expression of the forestr ^ camera » 



This effect was largi 
of the light-foliaged lard 
light passes almost v 

The seasor 
of sunshine I 
cession. T 
ows at th> 
well soake 
in June 

when the edge of 
vo each day um ! 
twilight gives a 
hort-lived night 1 
are, the roc 
little cleft 



ut character 
nich the sun- 
udow. 

my long days 

mbroken suc- 

e upper mead- 

i find the ground 

snows melt away 

•ring's awakening, 

melts back a foot 

whose linger- 

h throughout 

Jows reek 

ry tricklings, 

contribution 



dow ?ie deep valleys wh rbid rivers are 



Zhe Scarlet painteb Cup 207 

booming in summer flood. A golden band of yellow 
encircles every snow-drift, where lie the dead leaves 
and stems of last year, now already punctured and 
dotted with green leaves and white flowers, the ad- 
vance guard of the Ranunculacece, the " little frogs " 
family so clearly associated with springtime "peepers" 
in our eastern marshes. Then for a short season 
comes the pale blue, yellow, and white display of 
those earliest blossoms treading hard on the heels of 
winter and even pushing up impatient buds through 
softening snows. The great white anemone, queen 
of Alpine flowers, preserves its attractiveness through- 
out the summer, for when the white sepals have 
fallen, there comes a tufted silky plume rising high 
above its deep-cut almost fern-like leaves, waiting 
for the first September storms to scatter its seeds 
over the ground. 

Then as summer advances there appears the char- 
acteristic flower of the Rockies — the painted cup. It 
is like a tuft of leaves dipped in the richest dyes of 
the Orient. When camping days are over, and from 
amid the turmoil of civilisation the memory wings us 
away to the mountains, no picture of meadow or 
trail-side seems complete, no gravelly stream bed or 
high open pass can be brought to the mind's eye, 
without that ever-present galaxy of red and scarlet 
and purple flowers. 

The succession of flowering plants has reserved 
mid-August for the glorious climax of the floral dis- 
play. Every season is alike in this, but when long 



208 Gbe iRockies of Canat>a 

weeks of sunshine such as we have enjoyed this year 
have wrought their influence, there result a profusion 
and perfection of beauty that cannot be described in 
words. Such was the fortunate time of our arrival. 
From our tent we could look over seas of untold 
millions of wild asters. For a quarter of a mile in 
every direction the dominant tone, aside from the 
green leaves, was a pale lilac colour, given by the in- 
numerable delicate rayed, yellow-eyed flowers grow- 
ing tall and graceful on slender stems. In the most 
crowded parts of these gardens it was an easy matter 
to seize twenty or thirty blossoms in a single grasp 
of the hand, yet out of a myriad of flowers you could 
not see one wilted or imperfect head. Amongst them 
the white valerian, whose dying leaves make that 
strong, rank odour, noticeable everywhere in late 
summer, and the yellow rayed arnicas, like fallen 
golden stars, the painted cups and tasselled plumes of 
anemones were lost in sheer multitude. It seemed a 
pity to trample through these gardens, and so we 
came at length to pick our way with care. 

The sun, when it pours a flood of light over these 
wild flower gardens, gives a marvellous sensation of 
cheerfulness. Bewildered at the contrasting colours 
near at hand you look for relief through fairyland 
vistas of larch and meadow where details are lost in 
distance. The most pleasing idealisations of Corot 
seem to exist for us here, and here Turner's wonder- 
ful light effects are realised. But so sharply drawn 
are the lines of temperature that at a few hundred 



2q8 Zhc IRocfcies of Cana&a 

ne such as we hn yed this year 
eir influen esult a profusion 
>f beauty that described in 
h was the fori f our arrival. 
r tent we could of untold 
5 of wild asters. of a mile in 
on the dor : from the 
was a pale the in- 
delicate ra row- 
■1 graceful on tie most 
d parts of the matter 
e twenty or thirt; grasp 

5 hand, yet (Mpine Flower Gardens. >'OU COUld 

not see dto£^wfl#^#fc«»(r^^ 

the white valerian, u make that 

strong, rank od here in late 

summer, and Ike fallen 

plumes of 

seemed a 

so we 

r these 

lion of 

colours 

look for relief through fairyland 

ad meadow where details are lost in 

most [ nations of Corot 

r us ht Turner's wonder- 

ts are r sharply drawn 

remper a few hundred 



pbotograpbic flbcate 209 

feet more of elevation the forest ends and the domina- 
tion of bare rocks and snow begins. The upland 
meadows where spruce and larch mingle are the final 
lovely expression of the forest, the swan song, as it 
were, of the evergreen mantle rising dense and sombre 
out of the valleys. 

About two miles up the valley, at a somewhat 
higher level, was the Wenkchemna Lake where I 
hoped to do much photographic work. It would be 
difficult to find another lake of small size in a wilder 
setting, the shores being of great angular stones, 
perfectly in harmony with the wild range of moun- 
tains beyond. Except in one place where a green and 
inviting slope comes down to the water, this rough 
ground is utterly unsuitable for vegetation and nearly 
devoid of trees. From my favourite point of view 
only one tree is visible, a distant, solitary larch. The 
lake seems about a quarter of a mile across, but there 
is nothing to judge distance by, and it is probably 
more, as an hour will hardly suffice to walk around 
the shore. The lake is as cold as ice, too cold to melt 
the snow-banks which line its shores till late in sum- 
mer and in places dip under the clear, green water. 
The water is so deep that the bottom cannot be seen, 
and so the reflections are marvellous. Though the 
passing breezes quickly ruffle its surface, ten minutes 
of calm are enough to smooth it out again, so that 
all those beautiful transition stages between sparkling 
ripples and a mirror surface are repeated many times 
in an hour. Though hemmed in by barren rocks, 



210 Zf)c IRocfcies of Canada 

and the wildest of mountain peaks, this little sheet 
of water does not impress me as sad or desolate. 
Such are the little shallow lakes in high valley ends 
or passes, surrounded by monotonous characterless 
slopes, with neither trees or rocks to relieve the eye 
or give a touch of life. Wenkchemna Lake, always 
interesting from every part of her rough shores, has 
the distinction of reflecting in its surface several of 
the highest and most difficult peaks of the Canadian 
Rockies. 

On and near the shores of this lake were endless 
possibilities for my work in photography and here, 
if anywhere in the mountains, I hoped to succeed in 
carrying out certain ideals. I look back on those 
beautiful sunny days with keenest pleasure. Many 
were the journeys between our camp down in the 
Alpine flower garden, and this rock-girt tarn, and 
many a day did I reach the hilltop, where first you 
look down on the water, with heart beating hard 
under the burden of my camera, and in excitement to 
know whether the conditions were favourable. Once, 
to save the extra exertion of packing the load of fifty 
pounds or more, I strapped the big leather case over- 
night, up in the branches of a larch. When I came 
back the next day the straps were nearly gnawed 
through in several places. Jim, who Is part Indian, 
and interprets not only the tracks and traits of every 
mountain animal, but even ventures to tell the ap- 
proximate hour of their visits, said that the only an- 
imal that could have done this was a bush-tailed rat. 



Difficulties of Xanbscape XPOlork 



211 



I usually spend the first few days composing 
my pictures, devoting much time to that most im- 
portant part, the foreground, for it seems to me that 
a landscape without a foreground is hardly a picture 
at all, and certainly not to be regarded as a work of 
art. The foreground takes away that feeling of being 
suspended somewhere in space, gives you confidence 
that you are really standing on something, helps in- 
terpret the subject, and adds another element of dis- 
tance and perspective. Yet, of all parts of the picture, 
this is the hardest to arrange. Every line, every mass 
of light and shade, that you succeed in harmonising 
with the idea of your picture, means, by the very 
fact that you have shifted your point of view to right 
or left, or up or down, that many another element 
of your picture has been lost. It is an absorbing 
puzzle that often requires days to solve, even for the 
experienced worker, and must always end in many 
compromises. The painter has an immense advan- 
tage, for he can adapt nature to his requirements, but 
the photographer has to take her nearly as she is. 
I say nearly because you can occasionally cut away 
an offending branch, or darken a too bright stone 
with a splash of water — but how limited is this power 
in working out a perfect composition ? After the point 
of view that gives the most harmonious lines has at 
length been determined, it is an easy matter to mark 
the spot with stakes or stones awaiting the day when 
light conditions and atmosphere are perfect. 

I have been trying for many years to get away 



212 Gbe iRocfcies of Canaba 

from the hard, black and white, ordinary photograph, 
endeavouring to portray the atmosphere and distance 
of the mountains, the glory of the sky and clouds in 
a soft artistic medium so as to interpret nature as she 
appears at her best. And the first thing I learned 
was to break all the rules of the old-fashioned photo- 
grapher. The brilliantly clear day and cloudless sky 
no longer appeal to me, and I boldly point my lens 
into the sun till my eyes are dazzled. I welcome 
the rolling thunder clouds and the fleecy cirrus, the 
purple haze before a storm, and the smoke of distant 
forest fires, when each receding ridge and mountain 
mass stands out clearly from the other, yet shows 
its true magnitude and grandeur as never happens in 
a clear atmosphere. 

But to work thus means enthusiasm for the art of 
landscape photography and tireless patience. How- 
ever intensely eager you may be to secure a coveted 
picture, and however worried as the precious days 
slip by without result, you must hold yourself pa- 
tient to wait for days and weeks, even to return year 
after year. The final reward for such an attitude is 
always adequate. 

It is wonderful how a lake or any placid body of 
water complicates the problem. While you may take 
ten excellent pictures without water you will not get 
one showing a lake or river. Yet their artistic qual- 
ities are such that you will want ten pictures of water 
to one of any other kind. Thoreau says, "A lake is 
the landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. 



^fleeting ©pportunities 213 

It is earth's eye ; looking into which the beholder 
measures the depth of his own nature. " And they are 
eyes and mirrors indeed amid these grand mountains, 
reflecting and amplifying every passing mood of sky 
and sunlight. 

Taking such a lake as this ofWenkchemna, which 
in a way lends itself remarkably well to photography, 
it is easy to prove that in an entire year there are 
only a few minutes, or at most, a few hours, in which 
the conditions are perfect for exposing a plate. Let 
us say that only during three months is the ground 
free of snow. Of these ninety days the large major- 
ity will be either stormy, or overcast, or very windy 
and of the remainder some will be densely smoky, or 
too brilliant, so that the problem quickly narrows 
down to a possible ten perfect days. In each of these 
there will be only one or two hours in which the direc- 
tion of sunlight is favourable for any given picture, and 
during these hours only a short time in which the 
ever-drifting clouds are properly grouped, the water 
surface unruffled, and the sunlight falling on fore- 
ground, or distance, or wherever you desire it to be. 
Ruskin says, " Though nature is constantly beautiful, 
she does not exhibit her highest powers of beauty 
constantly. Her finest touches are things which 
must be watched for." 

This study of landscapes continued through many 
days, holding the attention ever alert for certain 
desired conditions, is a splendid training, possibly the 
best, for the enjoyment of nature. No one could do 



214 £be IRocfties of Canaba 

this, or would, without that enthusiasm born from a 
deep love of natural beauty, and at least a superficial 
knowledge of the outdoor sciences; enough of botany 
to enjoy the varied forms and colours of vegetation, 
enough of geology to read aright the meaning of the 
uplifted mountains, and of meteorology to interpret 
the infinitely varied forms of clouds and mists, the 
wonders of the sky and atmosphere. It seems 
that all the natural sciences have most to offer, com- 
paratively speaking, at their very thresholds, and the 
deeper you plunge the less interesting they become. 
It is the very reverse of what holds true in art and 
literature. To understand Shakespeare and Bach and 
Wagner you must fathom deep into the human mind 
and emotions. But there is no need of the dissecting 
needle and microscope to appreciate the brilliant 
colours of wild flowers, nor do we have to know how 
to calculate the movements of the celestial bodies in 
order to feel inspired by infinite space on a starry night. 
But this waiting for the crucial moment is pleasant 
work. It would not be easy to describe the excite- 
ment and expectancy, when after weeks of delay, the 
several elements of light and air, of sky and sparkling 
water, are as favourable as they ever will be, and you 
wait for the culminating moment of time when nature 
has concentrated her powers. Now must you use 
skill, and be favoured by fortune besides. For a single 
second there is a prize to grasp, which if not seized 
with boldness, may be withdrawn forever. It is hard 
to say which is the more bitter disappointment, to 



214 Gbe IKocfcies of Cana&a 

or would, without that enthusiasm born from a 

love of natural beaut superficial 

ledge of the outdoor i of botany 

the varied for: vegetation, 

ologytor iingofthe 

d mountains, an interpret 

mitely varied foi ists, the 

^s of the sk < ems 

II the natural om- 

tively speaking the 

oer you plunge tl 

the very reverse | and 

rature. To undo to; .. ichand 

Wagner you must i Wenkchemna Lake. n m]nd 

and emotions. dissecting 

needle and mk 3 brilliant 

colours of know how 

to calc bodies in 

V night. 

sant 

ite- 

the 

rkling 

ad you 

nature 

I her p Now must you use 

red by For a single 

prize to if not seized 

, maybewiti r. It is hard 

the more ointment, to 



animal life of tbe ITlpper flDeabows 215 

expose your last available plate a moment too soon, 
and see shortly afterwards, in your helplessness, far 
more beautiful combinations, or in expectation of 
greater things to come, overstay your opportunity 
and have the curtain fall, as it were, perhaps for 
another year on nature's drama. 

These long waits give rare opportunities to study 
the birds and small wild animals, and for the very 
reason that you are quiet, they at length lose their 
fear and make you one of their company. Down in 
the heavy forest it is an easy matter to make friends 
with the squirrels and whiskey-jacks and chickadees, 
but up in the open meadows your arrival creates a 
general alarm. The shrill whistle of the siffleur first 
pierces the silence, for the hoary marmot has sighted 
you from afar, then all the lesser animals commence 
their danger signals, the small picas disappearing 
after a single squeak under some stone, while the 
Parry's marmot more boldly stands erect and gives a 
succession of short nervous cries, which as you draw 
nearer, finally ends in panic-stricken, rapid notes, fad- 
ing away as he hurries to the deepest recesses of his 
burrow. These small marmots and the picas are 
always on the alert. Living as they do in the open 
it is quite likely that hawks, weasels, and bears kill 
many. 

There are two pairs of ptarmigans near the lake, 
each with its brood of young hopefuls. These Arctic 
birds which have chosen the uppermost limits of 
vegetation for their feeding- and nesting-grounds, 



216 Zbc IRocfcies of Canaba 

grew familiar to our presence, and each day allowed 
us to come nearer. Sometimes upon surprising them 
suddenly I noticed that of an entire brood only one 
or two would be seen. Those that are behind rocks 
or bushes, apparently realising that they are unseen, 
remain motionless, but the others knowing that they 
are observed, scatter in various directions while the 
mother bird clucks loudly and does her best to defend 
them. Once only I saw the entire family in flight. 
Such a thing never occurs when they are disturbed 
by some invader, as in that case they first scatter, 
and then fly off for short distances, one at a time, as 
approached. On a grassy plot where a small stream 
enters the lake I watched the little family for an hour 
feeding amidst the grass and heaths. A Parry's 
marmot was browsing on the same ground, and at 
length drew near the ptarmigans. The marmot made 
a feint to jump at her, but mother ptarmigan flapped 
her wings, and stood him off in a defiant manner, 
after which the marmot continued feeding as though 
nothing had happened. Later on a pica, and several 
small birds joined this group of animal life. 

West of the lake there are remarkable cliffs of 
horizontal ledges worn into an almost perfect imitation 
of an ancient ruin. Hoping to obtain a good view- 
point I scaled the lower cliffs and came to a flat bench 
several hundred feet above the valley floor. But out 
of a clear sky a sudden storm came up, and for an 
hour I lay huddled under a dwarfed spruce, while the 
wind howled and the hail whitened the ground. 



prehistoric )£artbquakes 217 

While descending I saw a small bird flying before me 
from point to point uttering cries of distress, and a 
moment later its fledgling fluttered along the ground 
trying to escape. I reached out to catch it, for it 
seemed bent on self-destruction but the little bird 
rolled over a cliff and disappeared. 

The great boulders and massive ledges of broken 
rock which surround Wenkchemna Lake and extend 
for half a mile or more towards the glacier are a part 
of the so-called "Bear-den" moraine. Dr. Scherzer 
in his valuable and interesting report on the "Glaciers 
of the Canadian Rockies and Selkirks" has given an 
ingenious and plausible theory for these baffling 
formations. He suggests that they represent a great 
catastrophe in the form of an earthquake or series of 
earthquakes at a time when the glaciers were some- 
what more extended than at present. These earth- 
quakes, which must have been excessively violent, 
shook down from every mountain peak, tottering cliffs 
and vast masses of rock, which, falling on the glaciers 
were transferred to their present position and piled up 
in as wild and barren a kind of landscape as the moun- 
tains present. It was this great extent of moraine and 
glacier that we looked down upon while making our 
early explorations and that led us to call this "Desola- 
tion Valley. " Looking south from the Wastach Pass as 
you come over from Paradise Valley, down upon and 
across these moraines, to the jagged range which rises 
sheer in sharp-toothed peaks three or four thousand 
feet out of the ice, not a single tree or spot of vegetation 



218 £be IRocfcies of Cana&a 

presents itself to the eye. It is the wildest and most 
desolate view I have ever seen. Later experience, 
however, showed how unfair this name, adaptable 
only to this extreme upper end of the valley, would 
be, as applied to the forests and beautiful scenery of 
the lower parts, and the name "Wenkchemna, "mean- 
ing "Ten Peaks," is far more poetic and appropriate. 

One day I wandered off over the moraine in a 
kind of exploration. The great slabs of stone require 
a most devious course, and no little climbing up and 
down just as an ant travels over the various obstacles 
in a rough field. The rocks are of immense size, one 
of the largest measuring over fifty feet long by twenty- 
five feet broad and fifteen feet thick. They are piled 
in confusion, some standing on end like monuments 
of a remote antiquity, some of red limestone, others 
blue or grey, weathered and splintered into strange 
forms, just as the ledges appear on mountain tops. 
Mingled indiscriminately amongst these softer stones 
there are many resisting and imperishable quartzites 
and shales. 

This is a vast solitude. As f paused on a massive 
ledge far out on the moraine I was nearly overcome 
with the deathly silence. The power and majesty 
of mountains stand forth most clearly when ac- 
companied by some great sound, the crashing of 
thunder or avalanche or the roar of a rushing stream. 
Their vastness dawns upon us only amid a desert- 
like silence. And now no sound of running water, 
or wind, or song of birds struck my ear, but from 



H fID?0teru of tbe fIDoraine 219 

time to time a soft, long-drawn wail or sigh seemed 
to come out of the air mysteriously. What could it 
be— this strange note in the heart of a barren moraine 
where the forces of nature were locked in everlasting- 
death and no visible living thing seemed to venture? 
I continued on for an hour in the glorious sunshine, 
hardly appearing to progress at all, but gradually 
circling round towards the lake. The crashing of 
rocks as they rattled down distant precipices and 
slid onto the glacier broke the silence momentarily. 
Then again that weird sigh — beginning nowhere, end- 
ing nowhere. This was one of nature's most per- 
plexing puzzles. We can solve many of them with 
patience and observation, but there seemed little hope 
of ever learning the cause of this strange sound. 
Presently I came to a place amid weathered lime- 
stones where a rough though rocky soil was beginning 
to form from the decaying ledges. Here were some 
green mats of moss-pink dotted with flowers, the 
first vegetation I had seen on the moraine. There 
was a honey-bee scrambling clumsily over the sharp- 
pointed leaves, and purplish blossoms, busily extract- 
ing nectar, and then, as he flew away, there came 
again that long-drawn sigh which melted into the 
distance as he vanished! 



CHAPTER XII 

DIFFICULTY OF DESCRIBING NATURAL SCENERY — THE SPE- 
CIAL ATTRIBUTES OF EVERY REMARKABLE SCENE — PEACE- 
FULNESS OF O'HARA LAKE — A MIDSUMMER DAY — AN 
IMPRESSIVE PASS — CHICKADEES AND WATER OUSELS — 
OUR FIRST VISIT TO THE LAKE — A BIVOUAC UNDER THE 
FROSTY MOON — DAYBREAK IN THE MOUNTAINS — A MOSSY 
STREAM — McARTHUR LAKE AND ITS ICEBERGS — COMPARI- 
SON OF PALMS AND EVERGREENS — PECULIAR TRAITS OF 
THE SPRUCE TREES — WHERE THE FOREST IS CONQUERED 
BY COLD — UNENDING VARIETY OF CLOUD FORMS — COLOUR 
GLORIES OF THE PARTING DAY. 

IN all the mountain wilderness the most complete 
picture of natural beauty is realised at O'Hara 
Lake. To write a description of such a scene, 
and bring the salient features to the reader's imagina- 
tion, seems an easy matter under the forced draught 
of a long pent-up enthusiasm. But what glows with 
fire and inspiration under the mellow lamp-light, the 
morning sun often consigns to the waste basket. It 
is less difficult to describe the sea or the desert, for 
their limitless extent appeals more powerfully to the 
imagination, but in the presence of the majesty and 
grandeur of mountains both the painter and the writer 
realise their utter helplessness. What manner of ex- 

220 



CHAPT 



DESCRIB 

UTES OF EY 

■ o'hara LAKE - 

IMPRESSIVE PASS — CH 
ST VISIT TO Ti 
MOON — DAYBREA 

Lake O 'Hara, 

OF PALMS AND EVI 
THE SPRUCE TREES — WH; 
BY COLD — UNENDING VAR 
GLORIES OF THE PARTII 



IN all the mountain 
picture of natur 
Lake. To write 
and bring the salient 

s an easy matter 
of a long pent-up enthu 
fire and inspiration ui 
fling sun often -co 

difficult to descr: 

r limitless extent apf 

ition, but in the 

i mountains b 

•ir utter helples 



- THE SPE- 

PEACE- 

. Y — AN 

SELS — 

ER THE 

A MOSSY 

COMPARI- 

TRAITS OF 

IS CONaUERED 

— COLOUR 



>st complete 
at O'Hara 
h a scene, 
r nagina- 
draught 
vvs with 
; -light, the 
basket, 
desert, 
illy to the 
majesty and 
md the writer 
nat manner of ex 






difficult? of ©escribing IRatural Scenery 



221 



pression is best ? To give infinite detail to make the 
story truthful and complete is to perplex and bore. 
But, on the other hand, to give an impressionistic 
sketch, is fleeing Scylla to encounter Charybdis, 
because blurred details and hazy outlines if carried 
too far make the interpretation lack strength and 
individuality. 

Now every extraordinary scene has for me a char- 
acteristic note peculiar to itself alone. There is a 
vast difference, for instance, between the wildness of 
those jagged peaks and rough shores that encircle 
Moraine Lake, and that perfection of the single pic- 
ture as realised at Lake Louise, or between the silent 
little tarn of Wenkchemna, and the peaceful loveliness 
of O'Hara Lake. But the distinctive characteristics 
of every scene, easily observed and strongly felt as 
they are, become elusive as dream visions, ephemeral 
as flowers whose petals fall at the slight touch of the 
reached-out hand, once you try to describe them. 
It were useless therefore to make any effort to paint 
word-pictures except that he who has seen the moun- 
tains, in this or any other part of the world, may per- 
haps, amid many worthless pebbles, find a grain of 
ore here and there, and occasionally run across some 
idea in harmony with his experience that may recall 
pleasant memories. Neither artist nor writer will 
attain the best results by trying to reconstruct his 
picture out of the past. There are too many subtle 
details in the harmonious whole that escape the 
memory. But if he works while the very scenes are 



222 Gbe IRocfues of Canaba 

before his eyes, his effort, however feeble, will have 
somewhat pertaining to flowers gathered with the 
morning dew still fresh upon them. 

To me the dominant impression at O'Hara Lake 
is tranquillity and peace. Secluded in a deep 
pocket of the mountains, an almost perpetual calm 
prevails, the wind when it blows is gentle, and even 
the sound of falling rocks and crashing avalanche is 
rare. The stream, beside whose brawling course 
you have ascended the valley, yields finally to this 
persistent spell and, at the vestibule of one of the 
finest spots in all nature's realm, becomes hushed in 
a shallow pool where you already feel the presence 
of the lovely scene about to be revealed. 

From between the trees where you first come 
upon the lake, the eye glances over a sheet of water, 
clear and pure as an emerald, to the opposite shore, 
where a cascade throws a white veil over distant 
cliffs and makes ribbons of foam amongst the trees. 
The encircling amphitheatre of mountains is remark- 
ably free from any impression of rugged wildness. 
Sultry, midsummer days give the most harmonious 
expression to this scene. Let us imagine it upon a 
typical day of July or August when a faint trace of 
smoke or hot-weather haze bathes the mountains in 
a purplish colour, making broad, massive tones of 
each receding vale and ridge. Amid coppery clouds 
hung motionless in space, a sun of dim gold fills the 
dreamy air with feeble rays. The evergreens, darkly 
outlined against the purple distance, border the lake — 



peacefulneee of ©Tbara Xafce 223 

a mirror of burnished metal. Then in partial silence 
you almost expect to hear from across the lake, the 
falling stream whose motion over the cliffs you can 
barely distinguish. The yellow cliff near it, gorgeous 
in afternoon light, sends a stream of molten gold over 
the water almost to your feet. The oval lake is dis- 
tinguished by a narrow strip of land which sweeps 
a line of shrubs and wild flowers across the nearer 
water, and then dissolves into a chain of rocky islets, 
and so makes an almost perpetual mirror in a miniature 
cove. 

Of all the finer lakes O'Hara presents the greatest 
variety of pleasing views. Its level and open shores 
of heaths and hard quartzite rocks give endless com- 
binations of artistic foregrounds. Crossing the outlet 
stream on a log and walking a short way along the 
shore, you look southwards over the now open ex- 
panse of the lake to a rounded dome in the middle 
distance, and see towering above this two splendid 
peaks, one a cloud-piercing wedge, the other a dark 
precipice flanked by vertical walls. Between them 
is a natural gateway, majestic in outline, worthy of 
being an entrance into an unknown world. This 
view of jagged cliffs, the wildest at O'Hara Lake, is 
best seen under an angry sky, with dark clouds and 
the white scud flung across from peak to peak amid 
the rumble of thunder. 

In the woods near the lake there are many chica- 
dees, little balls of black or greyish-black feathers, 
flitting about in small flocks or pairs, they run along 



224 Gbe IRocfues of Canaba 

the spruce boughs, looking everywhere for some- 
thing to eat and constantly calling chickadee-dee-dee. 
It is interesting to see how rapidly and eagerly these 
little birds work, and how laughably they twist their 
necks and cock their heads to look on all possible 
sides of a tiny twig only a few inches above them. 
Once I saw something that seemed like lack of 
sense or faulty memory, when one of these birds, 
after making a careful examination of three different 
branches, came back to his starting-point and went 
over the identical ground in the same order. In rainy 
weather the chickadees are neither to be seen nor 
heard, but at the first glimpse of sunshine, out they 
come from somewhere in the woods and sing the 
most caressing and affectionate of forest songs. 

The little lake below the outlet is frequented by a 
pair of water ousels. They are always busy and 
always curtseying, hopping over the rocks or dipping 
under the water, and even walking along the bottom, 
in marvellous contradiction to their apparent nature. 
They always seem to find something to eat, but 
never appear to finish their meal. Living in the 
spray of torrential streams, where all is life and 
motion, they have little fear of anything, and so you 
may approach very close and study their interesting 
habits. But why do they curtsey continually ? and 
why again do sandpipers constantly bob their tails? 

Late in October, 1896, I made my first visit to 
this attractive spot. Tom Wilson and I had long de- 
sired to come here together, and when our plans were 



, A V) 



. 



224 



of Canaba 



,t.ir 



to 



where for so 

g chickadee-dee-dee. 

rapidly and eagerly these 

ork, I how laughably they twist their 

heads to look on all possible 

wig only a few inches above them. 

something that seemed like Jack of 

ilty men birds, 

dig a careful • different 

bra came back id went 

le identical g [ n rainy 

er the chickao seen nor 

ird, but at the fiOTi °f Lake ?&&, out th 

r Jagged cuffs • • • under an angry sky, zvith dark 

from Sfy^QdMi&ke white said flung acrossifitfwi #£HIJ&ihe 

songs. 

quented by a 
ys busy and 
ks or dipping 
-the bottom, 
irent nature. 
to eat, but 

g in 
is life a 
;nd so y 

uially r 
b their t 
first visit 
lad longd 
n our plans 



most caressftlffan- 

The little lake b 
pair of water ouse: 
always curtseying, hoi 
under the water, and 

marvellous contra< 

r to fin 
of torrential s1 
on, they have littl 
ipproach very ck 
But why do t! 
i do sandpipc 
I in October, i 
live spot. To 
sire here together 



©ur 3ftrst IDisit to tbe Xafce 225 

made we were unable to get pack-horses, and had to 
engage a section-hand to help carry our equipment. 
Each of us struggled with a load of nearly fifty 
pounds, distributed in unwieldy sacks. From the 
railroad at Hector we followed for many hours the 
old trail, formerly a route much used by the Indians, 
but now over-grown and nearly obliterated. The 
trail, crossing and recrossing the stream in a vain 
endeavour to avoid obstacles, finally became useless 
to our progress. The weight of our packs had long 
told heavily upon us, and night was coming on 
apace, but we plodded along in silent determination, 
through a forest that became apparently more dense 
and vast as we ascended, till at length our English 
assistant gave a deep sigh and cried out : "Where is 
the bloomin' lake ? " Before our courage gave out the 
forest opened and at nightfall we stood on the lake 
shore. To build a fire, cook a simple meal, and arrange 
camp was an easy matter. It seemed as though night 
had commenced in mid-afternoon. We had of course 
no tent, and there was an alarming scarcity of 
blankets, but after building a huge fire we rolled up 
at an early hour. Frost-bitten on one side, burning 
on the other, sleep was nearly impossible. What ap- 
peared like a faint dawn at length seemed to promise 
a welcome termination to the long night. Piling on 
more firewood, I looked at my watch — it was only 
ten o'clock ! Had my watch stopped, or was that 
apparent dawn merely the moon about to rise over 
the mountains ? Our hopes were soon dispelled ; 



226 £be IRocfcies of Canafca 

the night was only well started. So with momentary 
intervals of sleep, while the fire blazed brightly, the 
long hours drew themselves out in painful duration. 
Yet I cherish the impressions of even that experience. 
Majestically the twinkling stars moved on their 
courses, Algol ever varying, and Rigel and red Al- 
debaran, glorying in their Arabic names, suggestive 
of long watches on desert sands. The moon sent 
a flood of frozen silver down through the dark 
branches, and gliding from point to point marked 
the remaining hours till dawn. Our section friend 
wisely gave up all idea of sleep in the early watches 
of the night, and from time to time cracked the film 
of ice on our tea-pail and drank huge potions of the 
nerve-wracking stimulant. 

Nature's most glorious manifestation of natural 
beauty is sunset over a tropical sea. Warm vapours 
glow with the colours of roses, distant lightnings 
illumine vast domes of alabaster, the heavens revel 
in riotous colour, and the far-off showers throw a 
translucent film over clouds of opal and pearl. If 
nature were less prodigal of her wonders and we 
could behold such scenes but once in a lifetime, 
what weary journeys would we not make to enjoy 
that brief half hour ? Daybreak in the mountains, 
when the sun comes suddenly over the crest of a 
lofty ridge, is but little less inspiring. You will see 
the sun's first appearance as a bright point of light, 
like a burning star, which instantly broadens into a 
thin line, and then a crescent, blinding the eyes and 



H ADosse Stream 227 

filling the valley with a sudden flood of daylight. 
Then the sun's beams creep slowly from point to 
point, along the sinuous shores, over frosty, silent 
meadows, driving back dark shadows and pouring 
rays of light into the green depths of flooded sub- 
marine caverns. 

Not far away is a small meadow in the heart of 
the forest, and scattered through it are great rocks 
and symmetrical trees. This was Colonel O'Hara's 
favourite camping ground and, beginning with 1887, 
he made several visits to this valley. From here 
you may see a panorama of high and interesting 
peaks on every side. A small stream flows through 
the meadow and winds down towards the lake. Its 
water glides quietly over a mossy bed that shows 
every shade and variation of the colour green. 
Rounded cushions of moss, rank and luxuriant in 
abundant moisture, line the banks and cover the 
stones, some vivid as a forest in spring, some with a 
satiny sheen, some silvery, and others marked with 
points of dull red. Where the soft carpet dips under 
the water, the green becomes darker and darker, till 
it merges into a sooty blackness of the stream bed. 
I saw what appeared to be pearls on the bottom, but 
looking closely they resembled more the glassy eyes 
offish. One broke off and floated away, spinning 
around in a miniature eddy ; then came another and 
another, till it seemed as though the moss were 
breathing air bubbles under water. 

Less than an hour's walk from this meadow lies 



228 £be IRocMes of Canada 

McArthur Lake. Nearly two miles long, it is one of 
the largest lakes in the mountains at such high alti- 
tude, which is approximately 7300 feet above sea- 
level. There are absolutely no trees or shrubs in the 
valley where lies the lake, so that the effect is 
thoroughly Arctic. A glacier enters the water at the 
upper end and, even till the end of July or later, 
there are usually cakes of ice drifting over the lake. 
The water is exceedingly clear, and there is no ap- 
parent difference between its colour and that of the 
sky. There are many lakes of turquoise and emerald 
colour, as Lakes Louise, Moraine, and O'Hara, but 
those that are unmistakably blue are very rare. The 
reflected colours, which range through all the blues, 
lilacs, and purples to bronze and gold, are remarkable, 
considering the comparatively sombre and barren 
cliffs on every side. Mt. Biddle, seen in the distance 
over the glacier is unsymmetrically located with refer- 
ence to the lake so that no very effective picture is 
presented from any point of view. But the icebergs, 
and the sapphire water set in its fiord-like basin, 
make the lake unusually interesting and in some 
respects unique. 

I have been struck with the very slow growth of 
trees in the mountains. Photographs taken several 
years ago, when compared with the same scenes 
now, show hardly any difference in the height or 
outline of the trees. Upon visiting our old camp in 
Paradise Valley, I carried with me a photograph taken 
many years before, and a careful study of the trees 



228 Ebe iRocftiee of Canaba 

Nearly two miles long, it is one of 
kes in the mour at such high alti- 
ich is approximate? bove sea- 
re absolutely rubs in the 
where lies the ! ie effect is 
rctic. A iter at the 
and, even or later, 
•ally cakes the lake. 
r is exceedin is no ap- 
rent difference be our and that of the 
sky. There are mai and emerald 
colour, as Lakes Lo Hara, but 
those that are unmi xy rare. The 
reflected colours - Lake Mc Arthur. the b , ue ^ 

YA~~^ ~„ A " The sapphire water set. in its, fiord-like basin.". , , 

lilacs, and purpres tor -remarkable, 

considering the and barren 

cliffs on e he distance 

d with refer- 

picture is 

cebergs, 

basin, 

some 

• h; wth of 

iken several 

hen comi same scenes 

hardly any \ the height or 

trees. U| our old camp in 

alley, I carried with lotograph taken 

man before, and a udy of the trees 



Comparison of palms anb Evergreens 229 

showed that some of them had not added a foot to 
their height in fourteen years. 

My first impression of the evergreen forests was 
that they were somewhat monotonous. Now how- 
ever they seem more thoroughly appropriate to the 
mountains than any other possible form of tree. The 
royal palm is probably the most beautiful of all trees, 
but the spruce is, in many respects, to the cold north 
what the palm is to the tropics. One is like a living 
Grecian column, crowned with a graceful plume 
which waves in the trade-wind breezes and fairly 
sparkles under the blue sky and burning tropical sun. 
The other, while equally tall, is a tapering, green spire, 
sombre and moss-hung, pointing to skies that are 
often cold and grey, murmuring and wailing as the 
winds rush through its sharp needles. It is a melan- 
choly and picturesque tree, whether snow-laden 
under the frozen winter moon or mysteriously out- 
lined against the pale, dancing Aurora. The bark is 
reddish-brown or buckskin colour, the needles bluish- 
green, and its branches are often hung, especially in 
the less vigorous forest, with beard moss. It is 
harsh to the touch, its needles sharp, and the dead 
and brittle lower branches repel approach. Its 
resinous balsam, though fragrant in the heat of 
midsummer days, is troublesome on clothing and 
hands. In strong wind the upper parts of the trees 
vibrate rapidly, back and forth, but the tree itself is 
rigid and unyielding and the branches move without 
poetry of motion. They give a wild sound to the 



230 Zfoc IRocfcies of Canaba 

wind like that of distant surf, which rises and falls 
with the strength of the blast, and in days of rain 
the blue camp-fire smoke rises among the dark- 
green foliage and accentuates its colour. 

Unlike such trees as the white birch and elm, the 
spruces and palms should be seen from a distance, 
for, if you stand under them, you see little of beauty. 
Yet how magnificent do mountains look beyond and 
through these tall evergreens ! They are the very 
measuring rods of cliffs, and heights, and distances, 
that would suffer by their absence. How often, 
when coming down from some barren summit, into 
the region of forest trees, of intense contrasts of light 
and shade, of distant shining snowfield, and near 
dark clump of evergreens, have I realised that in the 
valleys are the finest views and most magnificent 
scenery. Were nature reversed, in that we lived on 
high summits, and could only visit the valleys by 
the use of ropes and ice-axes, Swiss guides and great 
physical exertion, this pastime would undoubtedly 
be more popular than to visit, as we do, the barren 
summits of lofty peaks. 

Making a perpetual mantle of green, giving cool 
shade and balsamy odours on hot summer days, the 
evergreens cover the valleys, they rise in tiers on 
the sloping flanks of the mountains, they stand on the 
vertical walls of dizzy cliffs, they battle with storm 
and avalanche and fire, and ascend into those cold 
and forbidding heights where every summer storm 
cloud whitens the ground with hail. Then for a 



mabere tbe fforeet is Conquered b£ Colb 231 

short distance larches and spruces mingle, till finally 
the spruce gives way to its still hardier rival. 

This borderland between the upper trees and 
the barren rocks, where the evergreens scatter and 
dwindle into a starved and blasted form, is a most 
interesting region. Similar scenes must have given 
Gustave Dore his original inspiration to draw those 
grotesque and weird tree forms, those gaunt arms of 
suffering humanity reaching out amid the desolation 
in mute appeal, writhing in despair. Storm and 
blasting winds have here wrought their utmost ; 
here they have bent and twisted and broken till 
what should have been a stately green spire be- 
comes a grovelling bush, creeping along the ground, 
or, with branches swept aside like a torn flame, 
reaches over the abyss of some beetling precipice, 
an epitome of its wild surroundings. Come here in 
a time of wild squalls, when the bitter wind shrieks 
in the larches, the driven hail stings the face, and the 
cold draws tears to the eyes, then see the dark clouds 
driving athwart the sky, and the grey veil of the 
approaching snow-squall trailing under, like a gigan- 
tic ghostly form. How appropriately now do those 
misshapen branches and distorted trees blend with 
such a scene, and do you longer wonder at their 
unnatural growth ? These trees have endured not 
once, but many thousand times, this cold and fury 
of the mountain blast. 

The summer of 1908 was one of the most perfect 
that I have ever experienced in the mountains. From 



2 3 2 Sbe IRocfcies of Canada 

early July till the end of August was an almost un- 
broken succession of fine days, either perfectly clear, 
or with a few scattered showers and their attendant 
sky effects. Even at the end of September, when I 
visited O'Hara Lake again, too late, however, to 
hope for any favours from the elements, the weather 
continued wonderfully good. Every season, and 
even each passing month, reveals new and unex- 
pected cloud forms, and now a certain type of high 
fog came pouring through the mountains that I have 
never seen before. At early dawn each day the 
peaks are concealed from view, by noon the black 
clouds, with edges of silver torn into fragments, are 
driving among the higher cliffs before a violent wind, 
while in the valleys there is a perfect calm. Later 
in the day bright clouds, riding above the highest 
peaks, move serenely across the blue sky. 

Night before last the coal-red fire of sunset seemed 
to set the mountains on fire, under steel-blue clouds. 
To-night it is colder. The glow of sunset rises higher 
and higher on the snowy summit of Lefroy, and the 
fleecy, melting clouds take on a bright tone in the 
darkening sky. A coal-black seam of rock, now for 
the first time, strikes my eye on the upper ledges of 
the mountain, and startles me. How many years it 
requires to see the mountains, even a single scene 
such as this in its entirety ! The cultivation of the 
inner eye is a life-work. A pink cloud-banner hangs 
for a moment to one side of an uplifted wedge of 
rock, while above there is a grey cloudlet, and even 



(Stories of tbe parting ©a? 233 

as I jot down these lines and look up the rich pink 
has faded away, a sudden darkening takes place, 
and deep night seems to be hovering behind those 
eastern ridges. A frosty chill seemingly comes out 
of the forest, and tells that the day is finished. The 
inverted trees in the green water are darkening, and 
across them the blue camp-fire smoke, down the 
shore, throws a mystic veil, and is wafted gently 
lakewards, amid complete silence. 

The colours are coming back again. An opaline 
cloud with milky border shows fire underneath, the 
sky is steel-blue, and the uppermost glacial ice is 
the greenish yellow of chlorine. Has the sun shot 
a last ray through some far-off pass in the Selkirks 
that makes this sudden illumination ? 



CHAPTER XIII 

MOUNTAIN CLIMBING IN THE ROCKIES — NATURE OF THE 
ROCK FORMATIONS — THE MOUNTAINS EASILY ACCESSIBLE — 
PIONEER WORK OF THE SURVEYORS — FIRST ATTEMPT ON 
MT. TEMPLE — A WILD NIGHT — A SCENE OF RUGGED DES- 
OLATION—ATTEMPTS TO CLIMB MT. ASSINIBOINE — MR. 
OUTRAM REACHES THE SUMMIT AND DESCENDS BY THE 
NORTH ARETE — HIS ASCENT OF MT. BRYCE — SCALING A 
PRECIPITOUS CLIFF — A THRILLING DESCENT IN THE NIGHT 
— DR. EGGER'S ACCOUNT OF THE ASCENT OF MT. DELTA- 
FORM — CHRISTIAN FINDS HIMSELF IN A BAD POSITION — 
THE SUMMIT REACHED AFTER TEN HOURS ' CLIMBING — 
BRIGHT FUTURE FOR MOUNTAINEERING IN THE ROCKIES. 

THE time has gone by when even a brief resume 
of climbing in the Canadian Rockies can be 
compressed into the limits of a moderate- 
sized volume. I shall therefore make no attempt to 
write a history of what has been done, but aim in- 
stead to give an idea of what mountaineering is like 
in this range. 

It is becoming more and more apparent every year 
that this part of the Rockies is not only a great field 
for Alpine climbing in its strictest meaning, but un- 
doubtedly the most extensive and interesting field 
presented by any readily accessible range in the 

world. That such men as Collie, Stutfield, Woolley, 

234 








a 






II 



MATURE OF THE 

rAIN ACCESSIBLE — 

ORS— FIRST ATTEMPT ON 

fE OF RUGGED DES- 

ASSINIBOINE — MR. 

DESCENDS BY THE 

T OF MI. BRYCE — SCALING A 

Mount Hector and Slate Mount afpfe NIGHT 

From summit of Observation f > m§C j mW-&¥ fflf fft^TA- 

LF IN A BAD POSITION — 
TEN HOURS' CLIMBING — 
RING IN THE ROCKIES. 

ne by when even a brief resume 
the Canadian Rockies can be 
the limits of. a moderate- 
fore make no att 

n done, but aim in- 
I mountaineering is like 

apparent every year 

es is not only a great field 

meaning, but un- 

nd interesting field 

sible range in the 

>llie, Stutfield, Woolley, 



mature of tbe IRocfc Jformations 235 

and Whymper have come over from England several 
seasons to climb here, that the Appalachian Mount- 
ain Club, represented by Abbot, who lost his life on 
Mt. Lefroy, Fay, Weed, Thompson, and others, and 
that expert climbers such as Outram and Eggers have 
found climbs that tested their powers to the utmost, 
or repelled all attacks, even under the leadership of 
expert Swiss guides, tell much about the real nature 
of the climbing. The formation of the Alpine Club 
of Canada in 1906 has done, and will do, much to fos- 
ter the sport of mountain climbing and the love of 
the mountains. 

The average height of the valleys is between four 
and seven thousand feet above sea-level, and as the 
greatest peaks are between eleven and thirteen thou- 
sand feet, the actual ascent of every mountain can 
usually be made in one day, so that high-level camps 
are unnecessary. It may be said that six thousand 
feet is about the upper limit of total ascent necessary 
to reach mountain summits in the Canadian Rockies. 
Glacier and snow work is not dissimilar to that in 
other mountain systems, but rock climbing has 
special features of its own. 

The lower parts of mountains near the axis of the 
range are usually Cambrian quartz-sandstones, which 
are stable when broken, while the cliffs, though often 
nearly vertical, abound in ledges and steps, which 
make easy work. This formation, however, is only 
found up to a moderate altitude, usually less than eight 
thousand feet, and then only in the sub-range which 



236 Gbe IRocMes of Cana&a 

makes the continental watershed. The other paral- 
lel sub-ranges, of which there are five or six, and the 
upper parts of every range, are formed of blue and 
grey limestones and dolomites of the Carboniferous 
and Devonian ages. Sometimes beds of shales and 
clay-slates appear also in this formation. These lime- 
stones weather into abrupt and often nearly per- 
pendicular cliffs on the eastern face of nearly every 
mountain, while the western is usually a moderate 
slope which offers a key to many otherwise difficult 
ascents. When the strata are nearly or quite hori- 
zontal, however, the softer beds weather into vertical 
cliffs, which make impassable zones round the 
mountains. Such peaks assume a castellated appear- 
ance, and the cliffs are adorned with numerous sharp 
pinnacles and rounded pillars, which bear a striking 
resemblance to mediaeval ruins. The disintegration 
of the limestones is very rapid, as may be seen in 
the immense talus slopes, which have been piled 
against the mountain bases since the Glacial Period. 
Frequent rock-falls add daily to these great masses of 
debris. The gullies on the high parts of the mount- 
ains are filled with unstable rocks and lined with 
tottering walls ready to fall at any time. The danger 
of falling stones and unsafe ledges is the greatest 
which the climber will encounter in the Canadian 
Rockies. 

At Lake Louise, Field, and Glacier, the climber is 
near the base of many fine peaks, and may use the 
several inns as his starting-point, or at least consider 



possibilities of tbe Weather 237 

them his main camp. This is true of Banff, though 
very few climbers will be tempted to make the tedi- 
ous ascents of Twin Peaks and Cascade Mountain, 
which do not offer sufficient compensation for the 
labour required. Many fine mountains raise their 
snowy summits at a distance from the railroad, and 
to conquer them, a camping trip, with horses and 
tents, should be planned. There are no huts as yet, 
where the traveller may spend a night, except near 
Lake Louise, unless we consider the occasional log 
shacks of prospectors and trappers. A tent or even a 
bivouac is usually far preferable to these damp, por- 
cupine-infested places. 

All the climber's work and the reward of his 
labour depend on weather. That of the Canadian 
mountains is no worse nor better than elsewhere. 
The usual summer weather in June is cold and rainy, 
and the rivers are in flood from melting snow, to be 
followed in July by sunshiny warm days, interrupted 
by brief thunder-storms. August is generally hot 
and dry, but towards the end of the month, a week 
or more of rain and snow frequently occurs, and this 
storm marks the breaking of summer heat. Sep- 
tember is a fickle month, and is usually stormy 
and cold for a long period. Cool October is the 
best month of all, though the days are short, and 
even the midday sun casts long shadows in deep 
valleys. The nights are frosty, films of ice form on 
pools, and the mosquitoes and gnats no longer 
worry the camper. The rivers are low and can be 



2$% Zbc IRocfcies of Cana&a 

easily forded, while the most distant mountains are 
distinctly seen through the crystal atmosphere. The 
only certain thing about the weather is its uncer- 
tainty, though in general, fine weather is the rule 
and rain the exception. During rainy periods, the 
short intervals of improvement, or the final clearing, 
are the best of all, and the cloud effects are mag- 
nificent beyond description. There can be no finer 
revelation of the sublimity of nature, especially 
when seen from the craggy summit of some storm- 
swept peak, than a view of rugged mountains partly 
concealed by rolling clouds. 

No doubt the earliest ascents of importance were 
made by the railroad and topographical surveyors. 
Between 1887 and 1892, Mr. J. J. McArthur climbed 
nineteen mountains over nine thousand feet and 
four mountains over ten thousand feet high. Among 
the latter, the first ascended was Mt. Stephen, in 
1887, and again in 1892. Wind Mountain, near 
Canmore, and the fine peak called Storm Mountain, 
near the Vermilion Pass, were ascended by Mr. St. 
Cyr. All this work was for survey purposes and so 
cannot be called mountaineering in the true meaning 
of the term. Only such mountains were attempted 
as could be climbed when encumbered by heavy 
surveying instruments, and this resulted in their de- 
feat on several peaks, one of which was Mt. Hector. 

Almost immediately after the surveyors finished 
their work for the time being, some ascents were 
made by visitors to this new mountain world. In 



the summer of 1893, Mr. S. S. Allen and I were 
camped at Lake Louise, with the purpose of making 
some mountain climbs in that beautiful region. Our 
two weeks' work resulted in capturing two mount- 
ains on either side of the lake, and being defeated by 
Mt. Victoria after reaching a height of ten thousand 
feet, and by Mt. Temple at ninety-eight hundred 
feet. 

On the latter attempt we started from Lake 
Louise with one horse and a Stony Indian, named 
Enoch Wildman. The horse carried a tent and 
some provisions, about ninety per cent, of which 
was canned duck, a wholesome though monoton- 
ous diet. We went to Laggan and followed a trail- 
less course along the south bank of the Bow for five 
or six miles towards the base of Mt. Temple and 
then struck up through the forest of pine and spruce, 
climbing ceaselessly till near nightfall, when we 
reached the cliffs of the mountain, seventy-five hun- 
dred feet above sea-level. A violent thunder-storm 
overtook us towards evening, and we sought shelter 
at length near a lonely rock-girt pool, enclosed by 
steep banks, a home for picas and marmots. On its 
wind-swept surface were fragments of snow from 
an undermined drift. It was, quite dark when we 
turned out our forlorn pony to graze on bushy heaths 
and birches, the only vegetation among the barren 
stones. There was no level place for our tent, and a 
stone wall had to be built to support our feet and 
keep us from sliding into the lake. It was a wild 



240 Zhe ffiocfties of Canaba 

night of storm and wind. Showers of hail and rain 
swept over us continually, and some of the more 
violent squalls threatened to bring our flapping tent 
to the ground. We had built a huge fire, for many 
great logs cumbered the ground, and it roared like a 
furnace and sent great flames this way and that 
in the fickle gusts, but towards the dawn, which 
seemed never to come, it died away into inert ashes. 
The crackling of our fire gave place to the sound of 
lapping ripples on the rocky shore. The light of 
day revealed our wild surroundings. We were under 
the northern precipice of Temple. A beautiful fall 
descended in a series of cascades, a distance of about 
one thousand feet, to enter our little lake. Some- 
times the strong wind, blowing against the cliff, or 
sweeping upward, made the water pause and mo- 
mentarily hang in mid-air, suspended as it were on 
an invisible airy cushion, till, gathering greater vol- 
ume, it burst through the barrier in a curtain of spark- 
ling drops. 

Poor Enoch had suffered terribly from cold during 
the night and begged our permission to return to Lag- 
gan, promising to come back the next day, "sun so 
high," pointing to its place in the early afternoon. 
He said in his broken English, — "No grass for pony 
here,— too cold me, — no like it me." So we took 
pity on him and sent him back to more comfort- 
able quarters, while we rested in comparative quiet, 
it being Sunday and stormy. 

We were on foot Monday morning at four 








•' 



of (Eana&a 

1. Showers of hail and rain 

tiniudly, and some of the more 

tened to bring our flapping tent 

We had built a huge fire, for many 

red the ground, and it roared like a 

it great flames this way and that 

cle gusts, but towards the dawn, which 

1 never to cor away into inert ashes. 

ling of ou sound of 

ripples on the ht of 

ealedourwii 

the northern precip ful fall 

descended in a serie nee of about 

On m^Mh Slope of Pinnacle Mo^azn^T^ 

Ci ^U^^i^Murif^darren mass of tottering walls and cUff}^ ° 

sweeping upv and mo- 
mentarily hang ii were on 
an invisible airy cu eater vol- 
le, it burst througl spark- 
drops. 

>ch had "ing 

i beggt ^g- 

«g to a s u n so 

to its ernoon. 

broken > for pony 

old me,— n So we took 

id sent hi mfort- 

vhile we resi iuiet, 

and stormy. 

on foot Mo nornin four 



a Scene of IRuggefc desolation 241 

o'clock. The gloom of early dawn, the morning 
chill, and a clouded sky had no cheering effect on 
our anticipations. Our plan was to traverse the 
mountain-side till we should come to the south- 
east shoulder, where we had once observed the 
outline of an apparently easy slope. 

At eleven o'clock, we had reached a height of 
nearly ten thousand feet and came to a vertical wall, 
about four hundred feet high, a barrier that com- 
pletely defeated us. At the base of this cliff there 
was a narrow slope of loose broken limestone, and 
below this, another precipice. Utterly defeated in 
our attempt by this impassable barrier, I walked 
along the cliff base into a semicircular recess in a 
last vain reconnaissance, while Allen took photo- 
graphs of the scenery. 

Here I had a few moments of quiet contempla- 
tion of a scene that in its awful solitude has left 
a deep impression on my memory. Some great 
stones, dislodged as I moved, fell with a grinding 
sound over the edge, towards a narrow chasm, 
three thousand feet below. A cold wintry wind 
made a subdued monotone amongst the inequali- 
ties of rough stone and the overhanging cliff, and 
brought up the dust and brimstone odour from the 
crushing stones. Opposite was a pinnacled mount- 
ain stained red and grey, rent into thousands of nar- 
row gullies or beetling turrets by the wear of ages. 
It was a vast ruin of nature, a barren mass of totter- 
ing walls and cliffs, raising two lofty summits far 



242 Gbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

upwards. Between lay a narrow, secluded valley, 
so thoroughly enclosed by precipices that a small 
lake in it was still covered by the granular, half- 
melted ice of last winter. To the east and south a 
wild and rugged group of mountains made a con- 
tinuous range and rose into successive jagged peaks. 
Over all the rough upheaval of mountains brooded 
a gloomy sky with long furrows of dark clouds 
moving majestically before the driving wind. Some 
of the highest peaks were touched by clouds or 
indistinct in snow showers, while the sun shot a 
few beams of light through the gloom and swept 
the ice and rocks with a weird illumination. Im- 
mense piles of debris rested against the mountain 
opposite, at the base of which was a desolate valley 
half filled with glacier and confused moraines. No 
tree or green vegetation of any kind appeared in 
all this barren scene. 

Overcome at length by cold winds and our 
hopeless prospects of further advance, we turned 
back and reached camp by the middle of the after- 
noon. Here we found that Enoch had returned, 
faithful to his word, and in a very short time we 
commenced our journey to Laggan. 

Next year, August, 1894, we were camped again 
at the base of Mt. Temple, this time in Paradise 
Valley. We were better prepared than before, as a 
year's study of photographs had thrown new light 
on a possible route up the grand mountain. On 
the 1 6th, by way of physical training, we ascended 



3final Success 243 

Mt. Aberdeen, which lies between this valley and 
that of Lake Louise. The ascent of this peak, 10,250 
feet high, was not difficult by the route we took. 
Surrounded as it is by Mts. Lefroy, Victoria, Hunga- 
bee, and Temple, which are among the greatest 
peaks in southern Canada, the view is well worth 
the climb. On the following day Allen, Frissell, and 
I commenced the ascent of Temple. We were up 
at four a.m. There was no trace of dawn, and the 
waning moon, now in her last quarter, was low in 
the southern sky, near the triangular peak of Hunga- 
bee. The cold air was full of woody odours and 
the smoke of forest fires. We crossed the frosty 
meadows and came to a secluded gorge, filled with 
massive boulders, looming dark in the early morning 
light. This place lay between Pinnacle Mountain 
and the south side of Temple. A steep ascent of 
scree, where the unstable stones were sliding con- 
stantly, required the utmost caution. Sometimes 
the mass of rocks would creep and grind ten or 
fifteen yards above us at each step. Not far from 
us was a place where a rock slide had occurred, and 
it seems most likely that this unstable slope will 
some day rush with a roar of thunder into the val- 
ley. The constant movement of the stones, and 
the thought that our presence might be the last 
straw, made us somewhat apprehensive. 

At nine o'clock we reached the pass between 
Pinnacle and Temple, and from a height of nine 
thousand feet looked eastward upon that wild valley 



244 Zbc IRocMes of Cana&a 

of desolation which we had seen the year before. 
The slanting sun-rays poured a flood of yellowish 
light along the silent precipices on either side and 
gently tempered the chill of morning. The air was 
perfectly calm, and there was utter silence except 
the clink of our iron-nailed boots on the rough stones. 
Cliffs and broken stones were on our left, where we 
had to force a passage, if anywhere. The lot fell 
upon me to lead the party, and when the rope was 
adjusted, we commenced work. For the next two 
thousand feet it was merely a careful selection of 
gullies and scree slopes, with occasional rock climb- 
ing. Our greatest anxiety was the number of loose 
stones, which in spite of every precaution were 
sometimes dislodged and threatened those below. 
At a height of eleven thousand feet we had a discus- 
sion as to the better route of two that appeared. 
One lay at our right and seemed easier, while the 
other probably lay to our left, and though it was con- 
cealed from view, the previous study of photographs 
convinced me that this would be the better route, 
and it took some time for them to agree on that 
point. A short scramble among flat shales and very 
rough cliffs led us suddenly to the great south slope 
of the mountain, and we knew our prize was all but 
taken. At noon we reached the summit and stood 
at the highest point then reached in Canada. The 
air was calm and at about freezing point. The sum- 
mit of Mt. Temple is a sloping mass of blue lime- 
stone, comparatively free of snow. The south face 



attempts to Climb flDt Hssiniboine 245 

is an unbroken snow-field and glacier, while the east 
is precipitous. 

Mt. Assiniboine, matchless in outline, and tower- 
ing above all peaks in that region, very naturally 
attracted attention at an early date. Three attempts 
to scale the mountain, one by Bryant and Steele, 
another by the Waitings, and finally by Bryant and 
myself, had been repulsed, though at ever-increasing 
levels, before Mr. Outram succeeded in reaching the 
summit. After a day of reconnaissance he, with the 
Swiss guides Hasler and Bohren, reached the highest 
peak after six hours' climbing from their camp on 
September 3, 1901. In his very interesting book, 
In the Heart of the Canadian Rookies, Mr. Outram 
says: "One at a time — the other two securely an- 
chored — we crawled with the utmost caution to the 
actual highest point and peeped over the edge of the 
huge, overhanging crest, down the sheer wall to a 
great, shining glacier 6000 feet or more below. 

" The view on all sides was remarkable, although 
the atmosphere was somewhat hazy and unsuitable 
for panoramic photography. Perched high upon our 
isolated pinnacle, fully 1500 feet above the loftiest 
peak for many miles around, below us lay unfolded 
range after range of brown-grey mountains, patched 
with snow and sometimes glacier hung, intersected 
by deep chasms or broader wooded valleys. A dozen 
lakes were counted, nestling between the outlying 
ridges of our peak, which supplies the head- waters of 
three rivers — the Cross, the Simpson, and the Spray." 



246 Zhc IRocfcies of Canaba 

After an hour or so on the summit the idea was 
broached of descending by the steep north arete, 
hitherto considered impregnable. That this was a 
bold conception may be realised from the fact that 
there were known to be several vertical cliffs on this 
face of the mountain, and that a single impassable 
difficulty meant a return by the way they had come, 
and the certainty of spending a night at high altitude. 
"Well roped" writes Mr. Outram "and moving 
generally one at a time, we clambered downward 
foot by foot, now balancing upon the narrow ridge, 
5000 feet of space at our right hand ; then scrambling 
down a broken wall-end, the rocks so friable that 
handhold after handhold had to be abandoned, and 
often half a dozen tested before a safe one could be 
found; now, when the ridge became too jagged or 
too sheer, making our cautious way along a tiny 
ledge or down the face itself, clinging to the cold 
buttresses, our fingers tightly clutching the scant 
projection of some icy knob, or digging into small 
interstices between the rocks ; anon, an ice-slope had 
to be negotiated with laborious cutting of steps in the 
hard wall-like surface ; and again, cliff after cliff must 
be reconnoitred, its slippery upper rim traversed 
until a cleft was found and a gymnastic descent 
effected to the ice-bound declivity that fell away 
beneath its base. 

"For close upon 2000 feet the utmost skill and 
care were imperative at every step ; for scarcely half 
a dozen could be taken in that distance where an 



I Cana&a 

iea was 

riding by the north arete, 

impregi That this was a 

n may be r from the fact that 

:nown to b ral vertical cliffs on this 

mountain, and that a single impassable 

/ meant a retu the way they had come, 

the certainty of spending altitude. 

.^ed" v ing 

generally one at a time, we c ; 

foot by foot, now balanc 

5000 feet of sr * iing 

down a broken wall-end, tl ible that 

liand ¥]>^ Sout)m$$L^lo P e of Mount Assiniboine. 

often half a dozen tM^t///,^/^. could be 



found; r hen tl 


1 too jagged or 


King 01 


>ng a tiny 


ledge or down the fa 


the cold 


butt res r finger 


>cant 


projection of some icj 




between tl 




lated with 


in the 


Ike surface 


must 


itred, its slip] 


iraversed 


1 was found 


descent 


the ice-bound d 


11 away 






upon 2000 feet 1 


kill and 


:ve at every s 


half 


taken in that dis 





accent of flDt. Brpce 247 

un roped man who slipped would not inevitably have 
followed the rejected handholds and debris, that 
hurtled down in leaps and bounds to crash in 
fragments on the rocks and boulders far below." 

No better idea of the difficulties frequently en- 
countered amongst these mountains can be gained 
than from Mr. Outram's description of his ascent of 
Mt. Bryce in August of the following year. This 
massive peak, estimated to be about 1 1,750 feet high, 
lies south of the great Columbia ice-fields, where the 
Canadian Rockies seem to attain the culmination of 
their grandeur. Having reached a point about ten 
thousand feet above sea-level, he and his guide 
Christian Kaufmann, found themselves at the base of 
a nearly vertical cliff on a rocky arete. On the left 
was a sheer precipice several thousand feet high, and 
on the right, an unscalable cliff swept by falling 
rocks. Quoting Mr. Outram's own words: "So 
there was nothing for it but to try to scale the escarp- 
ment straight ahead, and Christian immediately led 
the way. . . . The first dozen feet were fairly 
broken and not particularly vertical, but then com- 
menced a strenuous conflict with the difficulties of 
this natural outpost, set to bar approach to the 
stronghold's central tower. Hold after hold gave 
way as the guide tried them one by one, and frag- 
ments rattled down the gully and leapt from rock to 
rock in ever growing bounds till, lost to sight and 
sound, they dashed to final rest upon the glacier 
6000 feet beneath — a most suggestive journey to 



248 Zhe IRocfcies of Canada 

those who were engaged in an attempt to climb that 
selfsame cliff by means of very slightly more reliable 
supports. 

"Fortunately Kaufmann is a magnificent rock- 
climber, and it was a treat to watch the skill and science 
he displayed in his advance slowly and cautiously to- 
wards the goal. Now he was clinging to the round- 
ed surface of the buttress edge; now swinging into 
the narrow cleft at its side. Sometimes with arms 
and legs outstretched, like a gigantic starfish, in a wild 
endeavour to grasp a possible support; or bunched 
together after a huge step upward, where no in- 
tervening foothold offered in an expanse of a yard 
or more. A tiny resting-place, perhaps an inch in 
width and two or three in length, on which a por- 
tion of a nailed boot-edge can maintain a transi- 
tory grip, is hailed with delight and looked on as a 
luxury. The least projection, if happily not slippery, 
suffices for a hold, and one slow gymnastic effort suc- 
ceeds another as the climber gently draws himself up 
foot by foot. As little spring or jerk as possible is 
the invariable rule, lest it detach one of the treach- 
erous supports, and leave him hanging precari- 
ously on a fragile remnant, or hurl him in an instant 
on the cruel rocks that line the gully at his feet. . . . 
Above him still nearly twenty feet remained of the 
bad bit, perhaps the worst section of it all. His sit- 
uation was not of the most secure; the slightest slip 
or jerk on my part would possibly be enough to drag 
him from his hold and so precipitate us both into the 



drilling Descent in tbe IRigbt 249 

abyss, where the white glacier gleamed apparently 
so close beneath our feet, yet really more than 6000 
feet away. But I must come on or give up the 
expedition." 

With this and other difficulties they only arrived 
on the summit at four o'clock, eleven hours after the 
start. With some apprehension of being caught by 
nightfall they made all haste in the descent. To quote 
again: "It was almost dark when we approached 
the well remembered cliff, which had been contin- 
ually on our minds, and to reach which before night- 
fall had been the object of our hasty, foodless march. 
But we arrived too late. And now the question arose 
as to the wisest course to take. We were on the 
horns of a dilemma. To go on meant descending 
practically in the dark a cliff which we had deemed 
so difficult by daylight as almost to be deterred from 
undertaking it at all. But on the other hand, a night 
out 10,000 feet above the sea, without the smallest 
vestige of shelter, on the exposed sky-line of a ridge 
swept by an arctic wind, with boots and stockings 
saturated and certain to freeze (and possibly the feet 
inside as well) before the dawn could aid us on our 
way, and almost destitute of food, offered a prospect 
particularly uninviting. I left the decision entirely 
to Kaufmann. The risk was practically his alone. 
For me, descending first with the good rope in his 
trusty grasp, there was no danger, even should I slip 
or fail to find a hold, except for the short distance 
where both would be upon the face at the same 



250 Zbe TRockiee of Canaba 

time. For him, a slip, a lost grip or a broken hold 
might mean destruction. But again he voted for ad- 
vance, and at any rate I could make a trial and report 
upon my personal sensations before his turn arrived. 
So I turned my face towards the rock, slipped over 
the edge, and entered on the fateful climb. 

"It will be long before I lose the recollection of 
those seventy feet of cliff. Drawn out for one long 
hour of concentrated tension were the successive ex- 
periences of hopeless groping in the dark depths 
for something to rest a foot upon, of blind search all 
over the chilled rocky surface for a knob or tiny crack 
where the numbed fingers might find another hold, 
of agonising doubt as to their stability when found, 
of eerie thrill and sickening sensation when the long- 
sought support crumbled beneath the stress and hur- 
tled downward into the blackness of space, whilst the 
hollow reverberations of its fall re-echoed through 
the silence. Then the strain of waiting on the best, 
but very questionable, protuberances for several tense 
minutes of motionless suspense, whilst the exigencies 
of the rope compelled Christian to climb down fifteen 
or twenty feet, and I could move again. At long last 
came the marvellous relief of feeling solid and suf- 
ficient standing-room once more, followed by the still 
more trying period of inactivity, the patient intensity 
of watching and hauling in the slack as the rope came 
slowly and spasmodically down, telling of Christian's 
gradual descent, the strained anxiety lest any acci- 
dent should happen to my comrade, and, finally, the 



Gbe accent of (tit Deltaform 251 

thankfulness of seeing his figure looming close above 
and in a few moments standing by my side, and we 
could breathe again." 

Possibly the most difficult mountain yet ascended 
in the Canadian Rockies is Mt. Deltaform: A re- 
markably strong climbing party required nearly 
twenty-two hours to conquer this forbidding peak 
after a reconnaissance and repulse two days before. 
Dr. A. Eggers has been so kind as to give me his 
account written shortly after the ascent, which I take 
great pleasure in reproducing. 

"On the first of September at six o'clock we left 
our camp for our final attempt. The morning was 
fine, the temperature thirty-five degrees and the day 
promised well. We tramped through the timber 
along the foot of the mountain until we came to the 
broad snow couloir which we had discovered two 
days before. There we put on the rope, and from 
that time until two o'clock the next morning we 
were tied together to the same fate. We were roped 
in the following order: Christian Kaufmann, Profes- 
sor Parker, Hans Kaufmann, and myself. 

1 ' After some stiff rock climbing we finally emerged 
at 1 1. 15 on the southern arete. Here we took our 
second breakfast in excellent humour, thinking that 
the hardest part had been accomplished, and that the 
summit, some eight hundred feet higher, would be 
easily reached. But we counted without Mt. 
Deltaform. 

"The first few hundred feet proved easy climbing. 



2 52 Gbe VocRie* of Canada 

Then our progress was barred by an ice couloir lead- 
ing up to a nearly vertical rock buttress supporting a 
small, scree-covered, rocky shelf. The ice, cov- 
ered with half an inch of snow, was so hard that the 
ice axe would glance off. The difficulty here was to 
get handholds amongst the loose scree to scramble 
up on the shelf from the buttress below. The wall 
above this shelf was unscalable, and we had to make 
a traverse along a narrow ledge from three to ten 
inches broad. This was about thirty or forty feet 
long and broken in the middle by a chimney, across 
which a long step had to be taken. The cliff above 
was nearly perpendicular, but fortunately presented 
better handholds than we usually found on this 
mountain. The cliffs below were just as steep and 
very sharp and ragged. However no mishap oc- 
curred and we came out on another shelf from which 
our only way was up a very steep and narrow ice 
couloir curving around the rock buttress on our left. 
This couloir, about a hundred feet high, proved the 
most difficult place. The step cutting took a long 
time, as the ice was hard and green and the steps had 
to be cut very deep and with exceeding care. The 
next hour was rather straining on the nerves. As 
Christian proceeded up the couloir he disappeared 
around the rocks and only the sound of his cutting 
could be heard and the swishing of pieces of ice as 
they rushed by us down the slope and disappeared 
on precipices which we knew ended in the valley 
below. 



Christian jfinfcs Ibimseif in a Bab position 253 

" The weather had changed, and a sharp, cold 
wind was blowing up the chimney with occasional 
squalls of snow. I was finally left alone, one foot in 
one step, the other high up in the next one, grasping 
the small protuberances in the rocky wall on my left, 
which here did not give more than miserable hold for 
the finger tips, the gloves froze to the rocks, and the 
fingers finally became too numb to feel. Still it was 
necessary to hang on because, as the others were shut 
out of view by the rocks, no warning could be given 
me in case of a slip. When, after twenty minutes, 
my turn came to climb, I felt as if I was too stiff to 
move. 

" This ice couloir ended against some nearly verti- 
cal rocks, the upper edge of which was covered by 
the snow and ice of the slope above. As Christian 
reached the upper edge of these rocks he found that 
it was covered with ice, giving no hold for his hands, 
and his footholds were too insecure to rely on only 
one hand and use the other for cutting the ice away. 
He was some minutes trying to find holds for his 
fingers, not daring to move his feet to another place. 
Finally he had to give it up, and realising what a 
possible slip might mean to us all in this difficult 
place he called to Hans to come up and assist him 
down. Carefully Hans climbed up beyond Professor 
Parker, I following to give him necessary rope, then 
holding Christian's feet in their not too secure places, 
he steadied him while he secured better handholds 
on which he could rely and work his way down 



254 £be IRocWee of Cana&a 

again. After Hans and I had climbed down to our 
places, Christian tried farther to the right, and suc- 
ceeded in reaching the snow and ice-covered slope 
above. We emerged on the western arete, and at 
the other end rose the final pinnacle of the mountain. 
" Never has any mountain summit given me such 
an impression of crushingly sublime, I might say in- 
solently sublime, unapproachableness. It rose about 
fifty or sixty feet above the arete, its northern face 
rearing itself as a vertical cliff emerging unbroken 
from the nearly perpendicular cliffs towards the 
Valley of the Ten Peaks. The southern face rose 
just as steep and in just as unbroken a wall from the 
only less precipitous cliffs of the south-eastern face, 
and fronting right to us, rose an apparently unscal- 
able vertical wall, some thirty feet high, against 
which the sharp snow arete came to an abrupt end. 
These yellowish, naked cliffs were set against the 
pale blue sky of the frosty September afternoon, 
while the gale blowing from the north drove the 
powdery snow from the knife edge of the snow arete 
in little clouds around its foot. 

" But what the eyes of the amateur, blinded by 
the sublimity of the view, did not see, was immedi- 
ately detected by the trained eyes of Christian and 
Hans, and without a moment's hesitation did they 
start towards a narrow cleft in the rocks, which led 
directly from the arete up the wall confronting us, 
and it took only a short time to reach the top, from 
which an easy snow slope led to the actual summit. 



Gbe Summit IReacbeb 255 

" At four-fifteen we arrived on the summit. But it 
was a very solemn party: there was no enthusiasm, 
no shaking of hands, no congratulations, no laughter, 
not even a smile. Hans and Christian's faces looked 
serious, and Christian's only words were: 'We 
must not stay here, but hurry to get down.' We 
all knew too well the difficulties which we had 
overcome, and we realised that we would have 
the same and still more to overcome while 
descending. We had used ten hours coming 
up and only four hours were left before dark- 
ness would set in at this time of the year. The 
squalls of snow and wind came with ever increasing 
frequency and the sky was full of dark, threatening 
clouds. We had to get down the difficult places 
before nightfall. We stayed therefore on the sum- 
mit only long enough to build a cairn and take 
photographs. There was no time for eating. After 
less than half an hour we started down again, roped 
in the following order: Hans Kaufmann, myself, 
Professor Parker, and Christian. We got down the 
chimney before darkness set in, but even then we 
had some two thousand feet more. It had turned 
quite cold, so our wet gloves froze to the rocks, and 
the little snow which had fallen made it still more 
difficult to find holds for hands and feet. Now and 
then the moon would come out from behind the 
clouds, only to show the precipitous cliffs in its de- 
ceiving light and then throw us into deeper darkness. 
The hands and feet had to feel for places to rest 



256 Gbe IRocfcies of Canada 

which could not be seen, and each place had to be 
carefully tested before relied on. This is an abso- 
lutely necessary safeguard even when climbing in 
daylight among the rotten rocks in the Canadian 
Rockies. How we escaped being hit by the loos- 
ened stones, which we heard roll by us but did not 
see, is a wonder. 

" Finally, at two o'clock in the morning, we un- 
roped and sat down for a lunch, the first we had had 
since our second breakfast at eleven-fifteen in the 
forenoon. But we were too dry to eat. We had 
had no water since six o'clock in the morning, and 
now there was only half a bottle of tea which was 
full of ice and only one teaspoonful of brandy for each 
of us. So we drank that and ate some raisins. At 
three-thirty we reached our tent, twenty-one hours 
and a half since we had left it the morning before." 
A large proportion of the highest peaks near the 
line of railroad have now been ascended. Amongst 
them are a number of peaks of conspicuous difficulty, 
such as Deltaform, Hungabee, Goodsir, Forbes, Bryce, 
and Assiniboine. Attention will now be drawn to 
peaks of lesser magnitude, and finally to variation of 
route on mountains already ascended. There are 
undoubtedly many surprises in store amongst them, 
and it is more than likely that some will prove 
nearly, or quite, unscalable. The south peak of Mt. 
Douglas and the north tower of Mt. Goodsir are still 
unclimbed after an attempt on each, Mt. Victoria re- 
mains unsealed by the north arete, and Pinnacle 



future of flDouutain CItmbiug in IRocfcies 257 

Mountain has repelled three climbing parties with 
Swiss guides. It will undoubtedly be many years 
before all, or nearly all, the peaks, even comparatively 
near the railroad, will have been ascended, while the 
remoter regions, reached by three or four days' camp- 
ing trips, will probably offer virgin ascents for an- 
other generation. The frequency of first ascents 
will, of course, diminish as the nearer mountains are 
exhausted. 

The mountaineering future therefore is bright and 
full of interest for many years to come. Fortunately 
some of the loftiest and most difficult ascents can be 
made with comfortable and home-like hotels as a 
base, or within easy striking distance, and the 
climber has an immense variety of climbs at his dis- 
posal, as, for instance, the lofty but comparatively 
easy Mt. Temple, the readily accessible but very in- 
teresting Mt. Victoria, the diminutive but difficult 
Miter, the dangerous wedge-shaped peaks of Hunga- 
bee and Deltaform, and the precipice-guarded spire 
of Pinnacle Mountain, which has thus far proven 
unclimbable. 



CHAPTER XIV 

KINDS OF GAME ANIMALS IN THE MOUNTAINS — THE ROCKY 
MOUNTAIN GOAT — A SUCCESSFUL STALK — A DIFFICULT 
NIGHT ASCENT — HOW GOAT MEAT SHOULD BE COOKED 
— AN EXPERIENCE ON THE SASKATCHEWAN —MANY GOATS 
AROUND LAKE LOUISE — INTERESTING ADVENTURE ON A 
MOUNTAIN CLIMB — THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP — ITS HABITS 
AND NATURE — SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A LARGE BAND — 
CURIOUS INSTANCE OF TAMENESS — SEVERAL KINDS OF 
GROUSE— THE ALPINE PTARMIGAN — FISHING IN LAKES AND 
STREAMS— WHERE FISH CANNOT BE FOUND— SOME STORIES 
ABOUT THE UPPER BOW RIVER — A REMARKABLE CATCH — 
VARIATION OF FISH IN DIFFERENT LAKES — SPORT AT MO- 
RAINE LAKE — ON A RAFT AT THE SPRAY LAKES — LARGE 
FISH CAUGHT IN DEVIL'S LAKE — FUTURE OF THE ROCKIES 
AS A RESORT FOR SPORTSMEN 

GAME in the Canadian Rockies is moderately 
abundant. The chief wild animals, besides 
black and grizzly bears, are moose, elk, 
deer, caribou, sheep or bighorn, and the Rocky 
Mountain goat. The several species belonging to the 
deer tribe are very scarce and hunters rarely bag any 
of this game. This scarcity is probably due to the 
rather limited feeding-grounds in the narrow valleys 
and perhaps, also, to long and severe winters. 

About 1840, according to a statement of the 

258 



<5ame animate in tbe fIDountains 259 

missionary De Smet, the Stony Indians came from the 
north and settled on the plains near the Bow River. 
They always have been and are still inveterate 
hunters, delighting in frequent expeditions into the 
mountains, where they engage in wholesale slaughter 
of big game. Fortunately, however, they have been 
recently compelled to submit to certain laws, which, 
if enforced for a few years, will make game much 
more plentiful. The Indians believe in certain cycles 
of about seven years when the various species of 
game animals become alternately scarce and more 
abundant, whether from disease or some other cause 
is not known. 

Among big game the animal most characteristic 
of the Rockies of Canada and which, from its scarcity 
in other parts of the country the sportsman is most 
anxious to get, is the wild goat. This animal at a 
distance has the general appearance of a goat, though 
it is a species of antelope and more closely related to 
the ibex or chamois of Switzerland. It is covered 
with a dense coat of soft white wool, through which 
a mingling of longer hair projects, especially on the 
belly and stout legs. Both sexes have round, black 
horns six to twelve inches long, slightly curved back- 
wards and very sharply pointed. An adult animal, 
when cornered, can put up a strong fight against ene- 
mies of its own size, and I have heard of an Indian 
nearly losing his life in a close encounter with an old 
male. A full-grown goat sometimes weighs more 
than two hundred pounds. The Indians kill a large 



260 £be IRockies of Canafca 

number of them every year for their flesh and hides, 
which latter they tan into a soft leather. Neverthe- 
less the mountain goat is very abundant and probably 
actually increasing in numbers. 

Its natural environment is among high and almost 
inaccessible cliffs near the upper limit of vegetation, or 
in the alps and meadows above tree-line. Rarely do 
these animals come far below tree-line during the 
summer. They are apparently slow and clumsy in 
their movements and have a swinging gait like a bear, 
a resemblance that at a distance is increased by the 
fact that they hold their heads very low. In spite of 
apparent slowness they run over the roughest rocks 
at a rapid pace and climb with certainty cliffs that are 
inaccessible to man. They run singly or in groups 
of from three to seven during the summer months, 
browsing upon the tender Alpine plants which grow 
between seven and nine thousand feet above the sea. 
In some of the lower valleys there are clay banks 
containing minerals which they travel miles to taste, 
and the number of tracks leading in several directions 
show that such " licks " are much frequented. 

My first goat was killed near the base of Mt. Assini- 
boine. West of our camp there was a long ridge of 
nearly horizontal ledges for the first thousand feet or 
so from the valley, while the rocks were more pre- 
cipitous above. On our various excursions we had 
noticed fresh tracks of goats, while the low spruce 
and underbrush were in many places covered with 
tufts of white wool which had been torn from the 



Zhe IRocfy? flDountain (Boat 261 

animals as they passed. However, no game had 
been seen till one afternoon, when a goat was ob- 
served walking along the cliff a few hundred feet 
above our level and not half a mile distant. Two of 
us made off in pursuit, and after climbing to a higher 
ledge, followed the innumerable gorges and rocky 
spurs of the mountain-side in the hope of getting a 
shot. But our game made better progress than we 
and eventually eluded us altogether. After a three- 
hours' hunt we returned to camp much disappointed ; 
but while we were at dinner the goat appeared again, 
this time much higher on the mountain. My com- 
panion had had enough, and though it was getting 
late I determined, after having been once baffled, to 
have that goat if it was necessary to stay out all 
night. The animal had scrambled down a number 
of exceedingly steep places to a narrow shelf below 
which was a vertical precipice that made him pause. 
At frequent intervals he would look down as though 
he wanted to descend the cliff, but there was not the 
slightest foothold for even such a skilful mountaineer. 
1 watched the animal from the cover of some larches 
with the purpose of fixing in my mind the outline of 
a certain snow patch. 1 felt that the success of the 
hunt would depend on knowing exactly where the 
game was when I should come down for a shot. 
The mountain goat must be stalked from above. Ex- 
perience has taught them that their chief enemies, 
bears and panthers, come from below. They pay 
little attention to anything above them except to run 



262 Gbe iRocftiee of Canaba 

to cover of some projecting cliff whenever stones 
rattle down the mountain-side. After the exact out- 
line of the snow patch that marked the position of 
the goat had been fixed in memory, I set out to 
scramble up the grassy slope, concealed from possible 
view of my game. I climbed nearly a thousand feet 
and then had a difficult scramble among some tre- 
mendous crags and rock fragments with dark caverns 
and patches of treacherous snow between them. 
Darkness was coming on rapidly under the shadow 
of the mountain, and the north-western twilight was 
fading, as it was nearly nine-thirty. The snow was 
hardening under the frost, and some pools were freez- 
ing as I followed a gently descending ledge and saw 
before me the well-marked snow patch, under which 
the goat had been standing when I left the valley. 
Pausing a brief moment to take breath after the rapid 
climb, I worked over to the cliff edge cautiously but 
not without disturbing some shaly stones, which 
pattered down and rattled over the precipice. Aroused 
by these stones, no doubt, I then saw the goat not 
far below looking at me with a curiously sullen ex- 
pression. I aimed, but had sufficient presence of 
mind not to fire because the foresight of my rifle was 
making circles around my mark owing to a combina- 
tion of " buck fever" and the rapid climbing which 
I had just done. It seemed a long time before I 
could make proper aim, and then after a flash there 
was a dull thud far below. Leaning over the cliff 1 
saw the goat at the bottom of the precipice rolling 




HEAD OF ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT 



a Successful Stalk 263 

over and over down the mountain-side. After a 
circuitous descent I reached the cliff bottom, and 
found a large hole in frozen snow, where the goat's 
body had struck after a fall of fully one hundred and 
twenty-five feet. The poor animal was some distance 
below, still alive though mortally wounded. I de- 
spatched the animal with another bullet, and at ten- 
thirty started for camp. 

It was now dark and the trees and rocks were 
dimly outlined under the starlight. A precipitous 
ledge below compelled a detour. Thinking that the 
end of this had been reached I commenced to descend 
a rather steep place which at first seemed easy 
enough. By a succession of groping movements, 
aided by projecting roots and stones, I lowered my- 
self from one point to another till at length, with one 
hand firmly grasping a young balsam, I found myself 
hanging over a cliff supported by one arm. It was 
impossible to tell how high the cliff might be, which 
gave little encouragement to jump into the darkness 
and risk a fall. Just then the rifle began to slip, and 
a most tiresome struggle ensued to place it securely 
with one hand while the other supported the entire 
weight of my body. Though everything seemed 
fairly safe in going down, the bushes broke or came 
out by the roots as I tried to climb up, and the smooth 
stones offered no grip to my fingers. Sheer neces- 
sity resulted in success at last after some desperate 
efforts. Camp was reached toward midnight, and 
around the blazing fire I told of my successful hunt. 



264 Zbc IRocfcies of Cana&a 

Peyto and Lang took a stout pole in the morning 
and brought the goat down to camp, where the meat 
was carefully dressed and laid away in a neighbouring 
snow-bank. The meat of these animals is somewhat 
like venison, though it has a musky flavour which is 
too strong for many palates. However, in my expe- 
rience, when the meat is broiled, or fried with bacon, 
and well seasoned with salt and pepper, it is quite 
impossible to say whether the cook has served goat 
or the very best mutton. Goat meat should never be 
boiled or stewed, as the musky flavour is then 
apparent. 

In 1896 Mr. Barrett and I were camped at the 
forks of the Saskatchewan, a seven-days' journey 
into the wilds. Our camp was in a small canyon 
near the turbulent Little Fork, and our tents were 
placed in an open grove of spruce on a flat gravel 
bed. On the evening of our arrival Barrett and I, 
accompanied by Fred Stephens, an experienced back- 
woodsman from Michigan, and a great hunter, walked 
towards the Saskatchewan River. Leaving the point 
where the Little Fork pours its small contribution 
into the milky flood of glacial waters, we strolled 
down the valley for a considerable distance, when 
suddenly our attention was called to a large animal 
upon the river-bank a mile or so distant. Stephens, 
who had killed many bears in Montana, declared it was 
a grizzly. A plan was made at once for Stephens and 
Barrett, who had rifles, to follow the cover of woods 
while I made signals as to the location of the animal. 



an BSyperience on tbe Saeftatcbewan 265 

After twenty minutes I saw puffs of bluish smoke 
and heards shots ring out from the forest, whereupon 
our game reared up on his hind legs and ran towards 
the hunters. No more shots were heard, the animal 
disappeared among trees, and it seemed best to climb 
a tall spruce to get abetter view over the flat expanse 
of the valley, and, if possible, have a look at the game 
and hunters. Barrett and Stephens afterwards said, 
however, that I was not up the tree for any other 
purpose than to avoid the charge of a wounded grizzly 
which was coming my way. It eventually proved, 
however, that the supposed bear was nothing less 
than a very large goat, which must have weighed 
three hundred pounds. 

This region is frequented by mountain goats, and 
fresh tracks were to be seen on the Indian trail near 
our camp. One day a kid walked along the crest of a 
low cliff within a few yards of our camp. The little 
animal showed no fear of us, and browsed the grass 
as it sauntered along. When one of our men fired a 
pistol several times it only looked startled for a 
moment. I thought the action of the beast showed 
supreme contempt for the shooting, which was in- 
deed very bad. The fact of our seeing two goats and 
many fresh tracks at this low altitude, which was 
about thirty-five hundred feet below the tree-line, 
proves that mountain goats sometimes endure the 
warmth of the low valleys. On a hot summer day 
the temperature might easily rise to eighty degrees 
in such a valley, and if the goats remain below at 



266 Zhe IRockies of Canafca 

such times they must tolerate a much greater heat 
than is supposed. 

The abundance of goats in these mountains is 
well proved by the ease with which the Indians kill 
large numbers of them, and the very good bags 
made by gentlemen who have made an earnest ef- 
fort to hunt them. We killed three and saw, all 
told, about fifteen on this excursion, where hunting 
was only a side-issue and engaged in at rare inter- 
vals. Two Englishmen, Col. Melleden and Capt. 
Chartris, killed six goats and five sheep on a three- 
weeks' hunting trip in this locality. 

One of the best places I know for the mountain 
goat is the group of mountains around Lake Louise. 
I have seen many of these animals every year in the 
valley of Lake Louise or on the adjacent hillsides. 
The magnitude of the mountains and the distance 
require very sharp eyes to see the animals, though 
the Indians can pick them out where the white man 
requires a field-glass. They are not much hunted, 
and are increasing in numbers in that neighbour- 
hood. In October, 1899, the telegraph operator at 
Laggan saw a large herd on Fairview Mountain, and 
a few days later two Swiss guides saw fifteen or 
twenty on one side of the valley near Mt. Lefroy, 
and a solitary animal several miles distant the same 
day. One of the most interesting experiences with 
goats that has come to my experience occurred on 
the day following. I had made an ascent of Pope's 
Peak, a high mountain above Lake Agnes, which 



Hbventure on a fIDountain Climb 267 

latter the Indians used to call the "Goats' Looking- 
Glass," and, coming down from the cliffs and danger- 
ous places of the peak to safer travelling, was 
beginning to experience that comfortable feeling 
which every mountaineer enjoys after a successful 
climb when the last hard work is over. It was a per- 
fect day of sunshine, with massive cumulus clouds 
and the mountains distinctly outlined in clear air. 
Having reached an altitude of about eight thousand 
feet, I paused for a few moments to study the great 
amphitheatre of mountains and the vast sweep of 
the valley. My eye fell at once on three goats 
browsing on Alpine herbs of a green slope. I was 
in full view of them, and the nature of the mountain 
was such that no concealment was possible. How- 
ever, by way of experiment, I continued the descent 
with ordinary caution, and, working over to the left, 
came down upon them from above. They were al- 
together absorbed in their pasture, and unmindful of 
the pattering stones which I disturbed from time to 
time. Whenever all of them had their heads to 
the ground at the same time, I ran some distance, 
crouching under the cover of low bushes, and then 
waited for another opportunity. The unwary ani- 
mals paid no heed till, in wonder at their stupidity, 
I stood up in full view, not ten yards distant from 
the nearest goat ! Even then I received only a sul- 
len look from the old billy. He made a curious 
picture as he flapped his ears constantly to drive 
away the pestiferous grey gnats which swarm in 



268 Zbe IRocfcies of Cana&a 

the autumn and which were bothering me likewise. 
I reached for a large stone, and shied it at him ; but 
he was so close that it went over his back. Then 
they commenced to run. It is said that mountain 
goats invariably run up-hill, even in the face of dan- 
ger, but I was determined not to let them do so. 
They wheeled to the left, and I likewise, running 
over rough stones and through scrubby brush as 
though my life depended on the chase. I got a 
glimpse of the goats heading up, but I was still di- 
rectly above them. They saw me and turned back. 
Then for an interval they were lost to view, and in a 
few moments they appeared in the valley bottom, 
loping like wolves over the rough stones and up the 
opposite slope, pausing to look around in terror be- 
fore making a final dash for safety. It was not long 
before they were at my level on the mountain op- 
posite, and then they came to what appeared an 
abrupt precipice. They seemed to spring into the 
air and reach a foothold of some kind several feet 
above them, pause, and leap again. They were not 
content till they had climbed more than a thousand 
feet to the summit of a rough crag called the 
"Devil's Thumb," when they disappeared through 
a little depression into the valley of Lake Louise 
on the other side. 

The Rocky Mountain sheep or bighorn has sim- 
ilar habits. This noble animal, though somewhat 
scarce, seems to reach the best development of head 
and horns in these Canadian Rockies. I have never 



Zhc fIDountain Sbeep 269 

seen heads from Montana or the Sierras to compare 
with the beautiful sweep of horns that is common to 
sheep killed in these mountains. In speaking of the 
bighorn John Muir says : 

"The domestic sheep, in a general way, is ex- 
pressionless, like a dull bundle of something only 
half alive, while the wild is as elegant and graceful 
as a deer, and every movement tells the strength and 
grandeur of his character. The tame is timid, the 
wild is bold. The tame is always more or less ruf- 
fled and dirty ; while the wild is as smooth and 
clean as the flowers of his mountain pastures." 

Whereas the mountain goat is clothed in a coat 
of white wool, the sheep has a thick pelt of stiff and 
rather brittle hair which, in colouring, harmonizes 
with the grey and brownish cliffs where he roams. 
They are more wary than the goat, and require care- 
ful stalking. The mountain sheep is less abundant 
than formerly because the Indians seek them persist- 
ently. Fine heads always bring a good price for 
mounting, and this, in addition to their excellent 
meat, makes them eagerly sought after. 

I have seen the wild sheep only in one part of 
the Canadian Rockies, though they live sparingly 
throughout the higher mountains and especially in 
the foot-hills and Coast range. One day, when we 
were journeying to the Athabasca Pass, we found 
ourselves far above timber on a lofty divide between 
the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. While spread out 
in single file, our fifteen horses were marching 



270 Zhe IRocMes of Cana&a 

through a rolling upland pasture in silence. Sud- 
denly a bunch of wild sheep ran upon an eminence 
not fifty yards distant to look at us. This was a 
magnificent revelation of animal life. Twenty-seven 
wild sheep proudly outlined against the sky ! Mo- 
tionless they stood gazing at us in amazement while 
we studied their graceful forms and curved horns 
raised high in air. Every rifle was tied to the saddle, 
as luck would have it, and a long march through rain 
and wet brush had made unyielding knots in the 
leather straps. While we were getting at the fire- 
arms a miserable pet spaniel, which had hitherto 
proved utterly unfit to find or recover game, ran for- 
ward barking. With a sudden turn the whole band 
made off, showing their white rumps as they bounded 
away for miles over the hills. 

We hunted them from our camp later. Fred 
Stephens shot one at long range, but the animal 
struggled away and fell over some cliffs where it was 
impossible to follow. The next day two sheep ap- 
peared on the mountain five hundred feet above the 
camp. They were looking at us intently, and no 
doubt wondering what manner of creatures we might 
be. Barrett and I made a long detour, and hunted 
carefully all that day, but were not able to locate 
them. We saw numbers of sheep on many occasions 
in this particular place, which is never hunted by the 
Indians because of a certain superstition about this 
part of the mountain. A most interesting experience 
occurred to Barrett one day when he was making a 



Sud- 
ninence 

This was a 

wenty-seven 

le sky ! Mo 

nazement while 

nd curved horns 

ied to the saddle, 

march through rain 

elding knots in the 

getting at the fire- 

which had hitherto 

Head, of Rocky Mountain Sheep. ' 

en turn the whole band 
rumps as they bounded 

imp later. Fred 

ong range, but the animal 

v r er some cliffs where it was 

he next sheep ap- 

five hundit the 

intently, and no 

inner of cr ; we might 

ng detour, and hunted 

e not able to locate 

on many occasions 

h is never hunted by the 

perstition about this 

itain. ; ng experience 

rett one le was making a 



Curious Instance of Sameness 271 

lone mountain climb. It was the first and only time 
for a month that he had failed to carry his rifle. De- 
scending from the mountain he came upon a young 
lamb, and presently saw the mother not far distant. 
Neither appeared much disconcerted by his presence, 
but moved slowly ahead as he progressed. The 
lamb actually indulging in various friskings and 
youthful evolutions at a few yards' distance. 

Previous to our visit, which was probably the first 
made by white men to this place, these sheep had 
been seldom or never hunted, as the Indians got their 
superstitions about the region years before. They 
were accordingly in a state of primitive wildness, 
which may account for these several instances of 
tameness in one of the most wary of all wild animals. 
Subsequently, however, several hunting parties have 
reduced their numbers. 

The moose, elk, and deer are very scarce except 
in such low and broad valleys as the Vermilion and 
Kootenay. Few except Indians succeed in bagging 
these animals. However, most hunters are more 
eager to get sheep and goats, and little effort has been 
made hitherto in the way of killing these members 
of the deer tribe. 

Bears, both black and grizzly, are fairly abundant, 
especially in the Selkirk range, where at Glacier three 
or four have been seen on several occasions in one day. 
An immense grizzly was shot at Lake Louise several 
years ago within a few yards of the chalet, and a number 
of animals are killed every season by the railroad men. 



272 Zbc IRocfues of Cana&a 

In seven or eight seasons of marching through 
these mountain wildernesses, I have seen a bear but 
once. It is not uncommon to see their tracks, but a 
bear has acute hearing, and quickly withdraws into 
hiding upon the approach of a noisy pack-train. The 
Stony Indians attack them fearlessly. Though they 
are inferior shots, two alone will open up on a 
grizzly, and it is often said that they will fight a black 
bear armed only with hunting-knives. The Stonies, 
however, are incomparable hunters, and it is their 
boast that like, Attila, "the scourge of God," be- 
neath whose feet the grass died : "No game can live 
where we hunt." 

In the way of small game, there are several species 
of grouse and ducks, which are more likely to fill the 
larder of an ordinary camping expedition than big 
game. The Richardson and Franklin grouse, with 
the grey ruffed and Canadian ruffed grouse, are closely 
related to the pinnated' grouse or prairie chicken. 
They live in the forests everywhere, and are so 
abundant that they make a large and important item 
in the way of fresh meat. These birds are excellent 
eating, being juicy, tender, and well-flavoured. It is 
hardly fair to call them "game," for they are easily 
killed by shooting their heads off with a rifle as they 
roost in the trees. I have taken six in half an hour, 
armed with stones, though it requires practice to pick 
them off at first. Black ducks, mallards, and teal are 
found in such places as the Vermilion Lakes near 
Banff, and on all rivers and lakes in the lower valleys. 



Gbe alpine ptarmigan 273 

They used to swarm in large numbers at Lake Louise 
in September and October, but have been less nu- 
merous in the last two or three seasons. The ptar- 
migan is an Alpine bird, found among the bare rocks, 
eight or nine thousand feet above sea-level in the 
summer months. Their summer dress is a pepper- 
and-salt colour with wings nearly white, but in 
winter is snowy white throughout, while their legs, 
and even the bottom of their feet, are covered 
with feathers, possibly as a protection against cold. 
These birds are of the same size as the domestic 
pigeon, considerably smaller than the grouse, but 
similar in flavour. They will remain quiet until one 
shot is fired, and if this does not take effect, they fly 
away out of danger, thereby showing superior dis- 
cretion to their stupid cousins of the woods. 

With the exception of goat hunting, it may safely 
be said, that fishermen have better opportunities of 
sport than the big-game hunters in the Rockies of 
Canada. It may be broadly stated that every clear 
stream abounds in trout if the waters are not too 
swift. The distribution offish in the numerous lakes 
depends on many circumstances, some of which are 
easily understood ; as for instance the absence of 
fish in lakes of very high altitude, or where a wa- 
terfall has made the ascent of streams impossible. 
But in other rare cases, there are large clear lakes 
at reasonable altitudes, having fine outlet streams, 
where there are no fish. The most remarkable 
place of the kind that I have seen is Fortress Lake, 



274 £be IRocMes of Canafca 

seven miles long, which empties into the Columbia 
River. 

Some of the rivers are glacial streams, carrying a 
flood of muddy water from ice-fields of the high 
mountains, and in these no fish can live. Many 
streams are rushing torrents or a succession of rapids, 
swinging from right to left in rapid descent, for miles, 
with no pools or eddies where a trout might find 
rest. The upper Simpson and Vermilion are such 
streams, though fine trout abound in their lower 
parts. The Bow is an ideal river for mountain trout, 
with many reaches of deep pools and eddying coves, 
as it descends through its broad and flat valley, and 
taking its source in two fine lakes, three or four 
miles long, both of which teem with large lake trout. 
Some of the best records in trout fishing have been 
made in these waters near the source of the Bow. 
The lakes have only been tried from the shore, be- 
cause the few parties that have visited them have 
not had time to build rafts and try the deepest 
places. Many trout have been caught near the 
shores of the Upper Bow Lake, which run between 
eight and twelve pounds. The lower lake also no 
doubt abounds in large fish, though the only one I 
ever saw was a two-pound fish 1 got with a fly, 
after three minutes' fishing from its rocky south 
shore. 

To give some idea of the fishing in the upper 
part of the Bow River, where it flows through the 
muskegs at the base of Mt. Hector, I will first tell my 



flisbing in Xafces anb Streams 275 

own experience, and then give some more remark- 
able records made by others. One day our men 
were having trouble getting the horses through a 
muskeg, when, by way of experiment, I took a line in 
hand with an artificial fly attached and dropped it 
from an overhanging bank on the water of a deep 
pool. A three-pound trout rose to the fly and was 
soon landed. The next carried away my leader, and 
I had to suspend operations, as our horses were well 
ahead by that time. In the afternoon I tried some 
pools above our camp, having no luck at all in some, 
while others contained several trout. With a red 
hackle I landed five trout averaging two pounds 
each from one pool in less than three minutes. 

On September 13 to 15, 1898, General Fred Pear- 
son and Captain Dickerson caught the following 
mess of trout between the upper and lower Bow 
lakes : 

1 fish at 44- pounds 1 at 8J pounds 

1 " 8f " 

3"9i " 

1 " 9f " 

There is no doubt that these Bow lakes abound 
in lake trout of considerable size. Wilson says that 
the Indians used to get numbers of large fish when, 
for some reason, they came into a small stream which 
enters the lake from the north-west. These fish were 
driven by shouts into shallow water, and so caught. 
Where the stream flows out into the lake is a fine 



2 


a 


" 6 


ii 


I 


a 


" 6f 


ti 


I 


a 


" 8 


a 



276 Gbe iRocfties of Canafca 

place to fish, and when camped there we caught a 
great number of two- and three-pound bullhead 
trout. A camping party, which had just left, caught 
fewer fish in the same place, but they were all 
between eight and ten pounds. 

The fish in each mountain lake have certain pe- 
culiarities of size or colouring. In Lake Louise the 
trout are from one-half to one pound in weight, and 
no large fish have ever been caught. They are brook 
trout, similar, except in lighter colouring, to those 
in the brawling outlet stream. Moraine Lake, east 
of Mt. Temple, abounds in very gamy trout, the size 
of which was quite uniformly between fifteen and 
seventeen inches in length. So far as I know, this 
lake had never been visited before the summer of 
1899, when Ross Peecock and I camped there several 
days. Here is a lake full offish, which we reached 
in six hours' travel from Lake Louise, and that, too, 
by driving our pack-horses through the pathless 
woods. If a trail were cut through the timber, 
sportsmen could no doubt reach this splendid lake 
in three or four hours. This gives an instance of the 
comparative wildness of the mountains, and their 
wonderful possibilities in the way of sport, which 
have not been developed hitherto. We found 
another larger lake some ten miles further south, 
which drains into the Little Vermilion Creek, where 
the fish were numerous, but of smaller size, averaging 
a pound or more. They resemble rainbow trout, but 
were very highly coloured and their gills fiery red. 



©n a IRaft at tbe Sprap Xafces 277 

There is a lake about a day's journey from Banff, 
in the valley of Forty Mile Creek, where sport is 
impossible because the fish are too numerous. I have 
never seen it, but old timers around Banff agree that 
in this place several fish dash to the fly at one time, 
so that after a few minutes, fishing seems more like 
slaughter than legitimate sport. 

One of the best places for lake trout is in the 
Spray Lakes, a day's march from Banff. This is on 
the route to Mt. Assiniboine, and on my second 
journey to that region we camped by the largest 
of them, called Trout Lake. Mr. Bryant and I got 
on a raft, which the miners from Canmore had built, 
and after paddling out into the lake, tried the fly- 
fishing. Fish of one to two pounds rose to the fly, 
and we soon got a large number for lunch. In the 
afternoon we anchored the raft where a large stream 
enters, and while Bryant used the fly I rigged up a 
large hook and strong line, and after baiting with 
a piece of fresh fish, dropped the hook over. The 
current carried out fifteen or twenty yards of line 
and swept the hook along the bottom, until, in a 
short time, there came a violent tug, as though 
a log had caught the hook. But this was a very 
different pull, and I had to let out fathoms of line. 
A big fish was on, and he was rushing madly in every 
direction, sometimes coming nearer, when some slack 
could be taken in, then away again, while the strain- 
ing line whipping through the water threatened to 
break at any time. In fifteen minutes a lake trout 



2 7% Zbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

that weighed fully nine pounds was landed on the 
raft and killed. Three more were caught in the first 
hour, one of which was a ten-pound fish. Bryant 
got one with his trout rod, deeming it better sport 
than a hand line, and so it proved. It was a twenty- 
minute fight between a large fish, his line, and sup- 
ple rod, which was bent double, and never recovered 
the strain of that day. It was a glorious sight, as 
the declining sun was playing over the broad waters 
of the lake in the majestic calm of evening, to 
hear the whiz of the line and the sound of the reel, 
with our friends on the shore shouting : " Go it, old 
man, hang on ! " till at last another fine prize was 
captured. We packed all our spare fish in a wooden 
box in cold moss and had enough to supply the 
hundred or more guests at the Banff Springs Hotel. 

Roughly speaking, the size of trout in the Upper 
Bow Lake, the largest of the Spray Lakes, and Lake 
Minnewanka, near Banff, is proportional to the size 
of the lakes themselves. Lake Minnewanka, or the 
Devil's Lake, is eleven miles long, and the fish are 
both numerous and of great size. A trout weighing 
thirty -three pounds held the record up to 1896, or 
later ; but all records were surpassed by a fish caught 
in 1899 by Dr. Seward Webb, which tipped the 
scales at forty-seven pounds ! The total weight of 
fourteen fish caught in this lake one day by two 
sportsmen was forty-three pounds. Sixteen caught 
the following day weighed forty-eight pounds, or an 
average of about three pounds to each fish. I have 



Sbe IRocMes as a IResort for Sportsmen 279 

heard that the Indians sometimes bring in fish of 
unusual size from the Kananaskis Lakes and other 
bodies of water remote from the railroad ; but this 
information is second-hand and like all such, es- 
pecially in regard to fish, somewhat influenced by 
imagination. 

Generally speaking, the sportsman should expect 
to kill in these Canadian Rockies no big game out- 
side of the mountain goat and sheep. With a well 
directed effort in a proper region, especially if an 
Indian hunter can be persuaded to assist him, he will 
stand a very fair chance of securing sheep, and al- 
most a certainty of bagging several goats. The 
hunter will have to rough it, and may find the vi- 
cissitudes of mountain travel more trying than any- 
thing to be encountered in the woods of Maine or 
eastern Canada. Moreover, the pursuit of these 
mountain-loving animals requires steady nerves and 
considerable practice in climbing. Such matters 
add zest to the chase and the reward is fairly 
certain. 

For the fisherman there is an unopened wilder- 
ness full of fine streams and clear lakes, in the great 
majority of which fish abound. Emerald Lake and 
Lake Minnewanka are easily accessible ; but most of 
them are as yet only to be reached by rough trails, or 
by forcing a passage through the forests. The re- 
mote bodies of water are, of course, not supplied with 
boats, and some, which are only three or four hours' 
journey from the railroad, have never been fished ; 



280 Zbe ffiockies of Cana&a 

so that the sportsman, to get the best results, must 
resort to rafts of his own construction, or carry a 
collapsible boat. However, the waters of all these 
mountain lakes are deep, and sometimes excellent 
fly-fishing may be had from their rocky shores. 



CHAPTER XV 

HOME OF THE STONY INDIANS — INFLUENCE OF AN EARLY 
MISSIONARY — THE INDIAN VILLAGE — TREATY WITH THE 
GOVERNMENT — POWER OF THE STONIES IN WAR — THEIR 
CHIEFS — SCHOOLS AND EFFECTS OF EDUCATION — RE- 
LIGIOUS TEMPERAMENT — QUAINT SUPERSTITIONS — ANEC- 
DOTE ABOUT EDWIN THE GOLD-SEEKER — LOVE OF MUSIC 
— MORALITY OF INDIAN WOMEN — ABSTINENCE FROM 
ALCOHOL — INDIAN PONIES — A BEAR STORY — NEW 
YEAR'S DAY CELEBRATIONS — WHERE THE STONIES GET 
THEIR COURAGE 

THE Stony Indians, a tribe unique in their man- 
ner of life and ideas, live on the borders of 
the great Canadian plains not far from the 
base of the Rockies. They have few traditions. 
Except that they are a branch of the Sioux, no one 
knows whence they came ; but during the last half 
century at least they have held the foothills of the 
Rockies for a home and have used the mountains as 
a hunting-ground. The Stonies have the reputation 
of being the fiercest fighters among the north-west- 
ern tribes, and have cruelly punished their enemies, 
the Blackfeet, in many encounters on the plains. 
About fifty years ago, when the first explorers 

came in search of a route across the continent, this 

281 



282 Zbe IRocfties of Cana&a 

territory was alive with savages. Each cloud of 
dust in the distance, or band of horsemen scurrying 
like wind over the plains, was a cause for instant 
alarm, and no traveller was assured of safety except 
in arms or the good will of the Stonies ; for the 
Stonies then, as now, were friends of the white men. 

Whatever may have been the cause of this friend- 
ship for the invading whites on the part of the most 
influential Indians in the north-west, it is certain that 
they owe much of their religious education to a godly 
man, Mr. Rundle, a Methodist missionary, who came 
among them about sixty years ago. To this day the 
older members of the tribe cherish his name with 
love and feel a bond of sympathy for all white men 
through this good man's influence ; for, " Did he not 
come among us," they say, "a poor man and go 
away likewise, leaving us richer ? " It is partly ow- 
ing to the impression of this early missionary's re- 
markable personality, but certainly also to some 
native strength of character, that they have such un- 
usually good traits. The Stonies are exceptionally 
faithful ; they cannot be tempted to steal, they are 
true to their word, and, more incredible still, they 
have an abhorrence of alcohol. 

Their reserve is a beautiful place in the terraced 
valley of the Bow River, near the little railroad sta- 
tion of Morley. The surrounding hills are covered 
with a scant turf, only green during May and June, 
soon to be parched by summer drought, and then 
frost-bitten for half the year. Clumps of rough 




.^^w^O z\m^^^.fl 



Cana&a 

cloud of 

n scurrying 

for instant 

safety except 

Stonies ; for the 

I the white men. 

use of this friend- 

►n the part of the most 

vest, it is certain that 

■s education to a godly 

missionary, who came 

To this day the 

be cherish his name with 

In the Enemy $ Country.^ white men 

\ '" Did he not 

>or man and go 

cher ?" It is partly ow- 

irly missionary's re- 

also to some 

■hat they have such 

ed to steal, they are 
ncredible still, they 

n the terraced 

the lit! sta- 

hills are covered 

ane, 

ight, and then 

imps of rough 



Hbe flnbian IDUIage 283 

Douglas firs crown the rounded hilltops or grow on 
the sides of ravines, and every tree leans eastward 
as a result of the unceasing west winds. 

The Indian village is on a small plain among 
wooded hills, about a mile from Morley. It is a col- 
lection of simple wooden houses which the Indians 
have built for themselves, though some still use the 
primitive teepee. During a recent visit I made my 
first call on Tom Chiniquay, a chief's son, to take 
pictures of himself and his wife. In his house were 
tanned skins, beadwork and embroidery, as well as 
illustrations and cheap prints from our periodicals. 
In a cupboard were some iron tools and other evid- 
ences of civilisation. Chiniquay arrayed himself in 
a gorgeous costume of ermine and otter fur, and put 
on a magnificent head-piece of eagle feathers, with 
the sharp, black horns of the mountain goat on either 
side. After the ordeal, Chiniquay charged me a dol- 
lar for the privilege of photographing him, notwith- 
standing an old friendship between us. I have never 
learned whether this charge resulted from the fact 
that he is a chief's son, or because of a certain debt 
at the "store" for which his costume had been 
mortgaged. 

The relations between the Canadian Government 
and the Stony Indians have been always happy. At 
a great council of the tribes, held many years ago, in 
which the Blackfeet, Piegans, Sarcees, Bloods, and 
Stonies took part, a treaty was made with the Stonies 
that " so long as the river flows " they are to receive 



284 Zhe IRocfcies of Canaba 

rations of beef, flour, tobacco, clothing, and money, 
in return for the lands of which they have been dis- 
possessed. The Stonies have behaved themselves, 
the Government has kept its promises, and everyone 
is satisfied. 

There are three Stony reserves in the north-west, 
but this one at Morley is the most important. At 
this place there were 581 Indians in 1898, and by 
natural increase 602 a year later. Though so few in 
number, the Stonies have exercised strong influence on 
the other tribes, due perhaps to their prowess in war ; 
and nearly every enterprise the Indians have under- 
taken, whether lawful or otherwise, has been a suc- 
cess if the Stonies joined and a failure if they did not. 
Thus the Riel rebellion, in 1885, though serious for a 
time, lost considerable importance when it was known 
that the Stonies would not lend their assistance. 

The Stonies have some cousins on the plains, the 
Assiniboines, who are arrant knaves, liars, and horse- 
thieves, with none of the good traits of their relatives, 
and nothing in common with them except a similar 
tongue. All the Indian tribes of these western plains 
have become more or less united by a century of the 
fur trade which brought them together in a peaceful 
way. The Stonies, like the others, are scattered in 
separate bands, the purest blood being at the Morley 
reserve, amalgamated, however, with the mountain 
Crees, and are at best merely shattered remnants of 
a tribe that has been repeatedly decimated by war 
and smallpox. 



Scboote anb Effects of Education 285 

There are three chiefs in this band, and upon the 
death of any one, another is chosen by the Indians to 
be approved by the Government. Numerous petty 
marks of distinction — a larger house, or a more gor- 
geous costume on festal occasions — are the insignia 
of their authority, which is not very great and is 
limited to such matters as the choice of camping- 
places on their marches, a weightier influence in 
council, and leadership in time of war. One day of 
my visit, Chief Chiniquay came to the agency on a 
matter of business. There was nothing, however, 
in his simple blanket costume and knife-belt to 
distinguish him from the others. But such was his 
dignity and reserve that no suggestion was made 
to take his picture, especially as this chief clings to 
the ancient superstition about the camera : that it 
shortens life, or at least takes away some portion of 
health. 

The Indians on this reserve have very good edu- 
cational advantages. There are two day-schools 
near the village and a boarding-school some six miles 
distant, which has accommodation for about forty 
scholars and is supported by the Methodist Church. 
At each school the children are taught simple arith- 
metic, geography, and the English language. There 
are also opportunities for special studies, such as 
housework for the girls and farming for the boys. 
The Stonies are ambitious for their children, because 
education gives them standing among their fellows, 
and they feel that ability to act as interpreters, read 



286 £be iRockies of Caua&a 

the papers, or write messages home when on their 
journeys is no small distinction. 

But it cannot be said, in all fairness, that this 
simple education is always beneficial. No race can 
jump a thousand generations, or even a thousand 
years, and feel no shock. Education tends to the 
Indian's betterment in many cases, but frequently also 
to his downfall. The study of farming is all lost on 
the Stonies, because the climate of their country, sit- 
uated two hundred miles north of Montana and four 
thousand feet above the sea, is not favourable to the 
cultivation of even hardy vegetables. Moreover, 
they have a strong prejudice against agriculture, and 
for them to dig in the ground is degradation. There 
are, however, pleasing exceptions to this tendency to 
relapse from education. Some of the young Stonies 
speak English perfectly and show by their ideas that 
they are not only ambitious but progressive. 

The most surprising moral trait of the Stonies is 
their sincere religious feeling, a result of early mis- 
sionary work. They attend church voluntarily and 
regularly, keep the Sabbath strictly, and even go to 
the length of private prayer-meetings at home. The 
Christmas festivities begin with a church service, and 
even their names, such as "Job Beaver " or " Enoch 
Wildman," which are sometimes acquired from per- 
sonal traits or circumstance, also prove their famil- 
iarity with the Bible. 

The Stonies show many of the paradoxes of a 
savage tribe in a transition stage. Striking contrasts 



A TYPICAL STONY INDIAN 



©uaint Superstitions 287 

of ideas often occur in the same individual, which at 
times almost cause a distrust in his sincerity. In- 
herited superstitions take deep root in human nature, 
and till we ourselves learn to disregard the new moon 
over our right shoulder, thirteen at table, the bad 
luck of Friday, and such petty self-delusions, whose 
influence we feel for good or evil, we should not be 
too severe in judging the Indian. 

Some beliefs of the Stonies are, however, very in- 
teresting, and none more so than certain supersti- 
tions in regard to their hair, which, by the way, are 
strangely like those of the Hawaiians and South Sea 
islanders. A lock of hair in the possession of an 
enemy is a cause for great anxiety, because therein 
is believed to lie the power of life and death over the 
victim. So strong is this feeling that even a good 
Indian would shoot and kill, without a moment's hes- 
itation, any one attempting to clip a lock of hair from 
his head. Many of their beliefs, however, are harm- 
less : such as the idea that each mouthful of salt takes 
a year from life, and that it is very bad luck for a man 
to touch any article of a woman's clothing. The 
younger women are subject to strange cataleptic fits 
and fainting spells, during which their bodies become 
apparently lifeless and rigid as iron. There is little 
doubt that the medicine men have a hypnotic influ- 
ence which is the cause of much that is incomprehen- 
sible to the Indian mind. These sorcerers pretend 
to drive away the evil spirits by charms, accompanied 

by an unending beating of drums and mournful 
19 



288 Zhc IRocfcies of Canada 

chants, continued day and night, till the patient 
either recovers, owing to unusual vitality, or dies, 
which is more often the case. Much of this gross 
superstition is dying out and now exists only among 
the weaker individuals and women in the secrecy 
and fear fostered by the medicine men, who, in any 
event, receive large payment for their services. 

The Indians have a superstition about minerals. 
One of the first white men to prospect along the 
Bow River was named Joe Healy. After much diffi- 
culty and many promises of blankets, flour, and tea, 
he induced an Indian named Edwin, the Gold-Seeker, 
to show him a place where there was copper ore. 
The other Indians shook their heads and said the 
spirits would be angry and that something would 
surely happen to Edwin for disturbing the minerals. 
But when autumn came, and the snow began to fall, 
Edwin and his family had new blankets and plenty 
of flour in their teepee. Then the others talked it 
over and said: "Perhaps the spirits will not be 
angry. We know where there is money in the 
rocks, and when the snow goes we will show it to 
the white man. Then he will give us horses, blankets, 
and flour." But one calm night a few weeks later 
some of the old men were grouped round a camp- 
fire on the flats by the river, and Edwin was stand- 
ing before them, telling about an exciting buffalo 
chase. Suddenly he fell over almost into the fire. 
The others rushed to help him, but he was dead ! 
Heart disease— the Indian agent said it was. The 



fIDoralits of UnMan Momen 289 

old men smiled sadly and said : "In the springtime 
when the snow melts we will not show the white 
man where there is money in the rocks." 

The Indians, though remarkably bad artists them- 
selves, are very fond of music. They often come to 
the agency to hear the piano or the graphophone, 
the latter a marvellous invention of the white man 
which they do not comprehend, and in admiration 
say/' We do not understand whether this is God or 
the devil speaking." 

The women are very strict in their ideas of moral- 
ity and rarely or never travel alone. Unless her hus- 
band is present a woman will always leave a room 
or teepee when a stranger enters. Though family 
quarrels sometimes occur, the Stony women make 
faithful and loving wives. Their position is higher 
than among most Indians, as the family tie is not 
easily broken, and labour is so divided that some of 
the work is done by the men. The women dress 
and tan the skins of moose, sheep, and mountain 
goats, making them into the most beautifully pre- 
served leather to be found in the North-west. They 
have charge, too, of the family treasury, and no hus- 
band will ever close a bargain without first consulting 
his wife. On hunting trips the women do the cooking 
and set up the teepees, which require thirteen slender 
poles stripped of their bark. To the men falls the 
excitement of hunting no less than the labour of the 
chase, which, among the heights of the Rockies, is 
exhausting and often dangerous. 



290 Zhe IRocftiee of Ganaba 

Strict abstinence from alcohol and other vices 
has given the Stonies health and vitality that make 
their numbers increase, while other tribes are dwind- 
ling away. But among all primitive peoples im- 
ported diseases find a virgin soil, and the Stonies 
likewise have suffered terribly from measles, small- 
pox, and consumption. An old Indian acquaintance 
of mine, William Twin, once told me pathetically 
that he could sleep no more from thinking about the 
death of his wife and children, and then added, "Only 
one little boy left now — if little boy die, no longer 
want to live, me." 

The Stonies' welfare in peace and their lives in 
war depend on their horses, and it is little wonder 
that they take the greatest pride in them. For many 
years past they have obtained good horses from the 
Kootenay Indians in British Columbia, so that they 
have always had the best animals of the western 
tribes. They have recently imported eastern stock 
to improve their undersized ponies. 

They have few amusements, but are very sociable, 
and nothing pleases them more than to recount their 
adventures in a kind of gesture language which is 
comprehensible even to a stranger. It is not un- 
common to see an Indian on his knees, before an at- 
tentive group of listeners, carrying out in pantomime 
every detail of some exciting adventure, and with 
words half chanted and voice like one calling from 
afar, relating the circumstances of hairbreadth es- 
capes or deeds of heroism. 




A STONY INDIAN MOTHER AND CHILDREN 



H Bear Stor? 291 

Among many hunting stories, the following well 
illustrates their courage : A young brave named 
Susie was encamped with his family in the Porcu- 
pine Hills east of the Rockies. After hunting sheep 
and goats all day, he was returning to his teepee and 
upon entering an open forest glade came unex- 
pectedly on a huge grizzly bear. He fired, though 
too quickly for good aim, and only wounded the 
bear in the fore foot. Walking backwards, and try- 
ing to get another cartridge in his rifle, he stumbled 
on a log and fell. The bear jumped upon him before 
he could recover. Then ensued a fight to the death. 
The Indian turned on his side and seized the bear's 
ear with his left hand. In the other he held his 
Hudson Bay hunting-knife, a formidable weapon 
like a small sword, and with this kept striking the 
bear on face and neck. Biting and clawing, the 
infuriated animal reared on his hind legs several 
times in an effort to throw the Indian from him. At 
length both contestants, weakened from loss of 
blood, fell to the ground, when Susie, with a des- 
perate effort, drove the knife between the bear's 
shoulders, but had no strength to pull the weapon 
out. Maddened with pain, the bear gave his head a 
great toss and threw the Indian several yards to 
one side. 

On the following morning Susie's people began 
to search for him. Within a few yards of the dead 
bear the Indian was found and carried back to camp. 
There they dressed his wounds and roasted the feet 



292 Gbe TRocfties of Cana&a 

of the grizzly, that he might eat them and become a 
mighty hunter, for by eating the bear's feet the 
spirit of the animal would enter and give him cour- 
age. When asked what he thought about while 
the fight was going on he said : "I was thinking- 
why is a bear's ear not long like a deer's ? " 

The great feast of the year is at New Year's. Every 
effort is made by the hunting parties to get back 
from the mountains before then, while those on the 
reserves spend weeks in preparing magnificent cos- 
tumes of fur and beadwork for this occasion. Upon 
the festal day all the Indians of the reserve assemble 
in two bands, each led by a chief. After a volley 
from firearms, the two bands come together and pass 
each before the other, while during the performance 
of this manoeuvre every Indian — man, woman, or child 
— salutes every other with a kiss. Thereupon they 
repair to the largest house and have a magnificent 
banquet, their white guests being first served with 
articles of civilisation, while the Indians feast on 
pemmican made of the meat of bear, moose, or sheep 
mixed with fat, sugar, and wild berries. Then fol- 
low horse-races and manoeuvres of various kinds, 
which, together with the award of prizes to the 
best-looking squaws, and athletic contests, consume 
the day. In the evening there is a ball with primitive 
music, where the dancers are urged on by shuffling 
of feet and an unending " Hi-i-i-i ! " from the specta- 
tors, while the excitement increases till at length, as 
in a tarentelle, the participants are ready to faint from 



Whevc tbe Stonies (Set tbeir Courage 293 

exhaustion. Though there is much that is uncouth 
and savage in these gatherings, there is no disorder, 
and the stranger will be kindly and hospitably enter- 
tained by his decorated hosts. 

The Stonies give an example of what has been true 
throughout the world's history,— that hill tribes and 
mountain peoples have always been fierce, inde- 
pendent, and unconquerable. The Stonies get their 
courage among the perils of the Rockies, where on 
hunting trips they have to ford rapid and dangerous 
rivers, or climb the precipices of the highest peaks 
and face the cold and storms of dizzy cliffs where 
the mountain goat and bighorn live. They have 
physical courage to attack the grizzly single-handed, 
or engage twice their number in battle. These 
admirable qualities, with their honesty, sobriety, and 
much that is best in civilisation, give a new hope for 
all Indian tribes through their example. 



INDEX 



Abbot, P. S., 235 
Aberdeen, Mt., 35 

first ascent of, 243 
Accident, a remarkable, 59 

in muskegs of the Bow, 143 

on Mt. Assiniboine, 109 

on Mt. Lefroy, 41 

to camera, 152 
Aldebaran, 226 
Algol, 226 

Allen, S. S., 34, 170, 239, 243 
Alpine Club of Canada, 235 
Alpine lily, 75 
Altitude, average, of valleys in 

Rockies, 235 
Andes, features of, 4 
Anemone, 15, 35, 207 
Animal life in upper meadows, 215 
Annette Lake, 55 
Antennaria, 179 

Appalachian Mountain Club, 235 
Arabic names of stars, 226 
Arnica, 208 
Arnold, Arthur, 142 
Artistic quality of water in pic- 
tures, 212 
Aspen poplar, 11, 65 
Asters, fields of, 208 
Astley, W. J., manager of chalet, 

42 
Assiniboine, Mt., 69 

attempts on, 245 

circuit of, 86 

distance round base, 96 

first view of, 81 

four routes to, 1 1 1 

height of, 86 

general remarks, no 

Mr. Outram's descent of north 
arete, 246 

resemblance to Matterhorn, 
no 

roughly measured, 85 

south side of, 93 

view of, 79 
Assiniboines, a tribe of Indians, 284 
Athabasca Pass, 139 



Avalanche, on Mt. Lefroy, 29, 30 
Avalanches, time sound of, travels, 
3 1 

Bach, referred to, 214 
Balsam tree, 62 
Banff, description of, 6 

location, 5 
Banff Springs Hotel, 7 
Bay, a remarkable pack-horse, 131 
Barrett, R. L., 141, 150, 155, 264 

climbs Fortress Mt., 159 

strange experience with wild 
sheep, 271 

visits Assiniboine, 70 
Bear, Barrett kills a, 157 
Bear Creek, 145 
Bear-den' moraines, 217, 218 
Bear, grizzly, shot at Lake Louise, 

271 
Beehive, the, 35 
Beehive, Little, view from, 38 
Bee, honey, puzzling sound of, 219 
Biddle, Mt., 228 
Bighorn, 268 
Birch, 16 
Bivouac, a painful experience, 52 

near Mt. Assiniboine, 89 
Boom Lake, 188 
Borderland between trees and 

barren rocks, 231 
Bow Lake, 143, 144 
Bow Pass, view from, 145 
Brett, Dr., 43 
British Columbia enters Dominion, 

5 
Brown, Mt., 139, 164 
Bryant, Henry G., 98, 277 
Bryant and Steele make partial 
ascent of Assiniboine, 108 
Bryanthus, 36, 179 
Bryce, Mt., 256 

first ascent of, 247 
Bulldog, a kind of horse-fly, 2 1 
Bullfinch, pine, 146 
Bush-tailed rat, 210 
Butterwort, 125 



295 



296 



Inbex 



Calypso, an orchid, 74 
Cambrian sandstones, 235 
Camp, an ideal, 205 

choosing a site for, 128 

in Paradise Valley, 56 

fires, 134 
Camp life, how to start, 115 

the start, 116 

on the march, 124 

origin of customs, 114 

unusual discomfort in, 183 
Campbell, Bob, 107 
Canadian Pacific Railway, con- 
struction of, 5 
Carboniferous formations, 236 
Cascade Mt., 237 
Cayuses, origin and traits of, 130 
Chalet, at Lake Louise, 14 

first at Lake Louise, 13 

life at Lake Louise, 22 
Characteristics, peculiar, of lakes, 

etc., 221 
Chartris, Capt., 266 
Chickadees, 223 

Chiniquay, an Indian pony, 73 
Chiniquay, Tom, 42, 283 
Chipmunks, 11 
Coleman and Stuart, expedition 

of, 141 
Collie, Dr. J. Norman, 234 
Colour, of Lake Louise, 19 

of sky in mountains, 28 
Columbine, yellow, 1 5 
Composition of pictures, 211 
Continental Divide, 104 
Consolation Valley, 205 

coldness of, 204 

origin, of name, 175 
Cook boxes, 118 
Cordillera, Pacific, extent of, 2 
Corot, 208 
Cotton grass, 17 
Cottonwood, 65 

Courage dependent on pulse, 46 
Cox, Ross, 140 
Coyote, 185 
Cree Indian, 9, 284 
Crevasses of Victoria Glacier, 40 
Cross River, 94 



Death Trap, 39 

Deer, 271 

Delta of Lake Louise, 18 

Deltaform, Mt., 193, 256 

first ascent of, 251 

summit of, 254 
Denny, a pack-horse, 132 
De Smet, a missionary, 259 



Desolation Valley, origin of name, 

217 
Deville E., Preface 
Devil's Club, 165 

Gap, 9 

Head, 9 

Lake, 278 

Thumb, 268 
Devonian formations, 236 
Dickerson, Capt., record in fishing, 

275 
Discovery of Paradise Valley, 47 
Divers, 28 

Dog, remarkable adventure of, 166 
Dore\ Gustave, referred to, 231 
Douglas, David, names Mt. Brown, 

140 
Douglas, fir, 2, 11 

Mt., 257 
Dry as octopetala, 163 

Edelweiss, 36 
Edwards, Ralph, 74, 84 
Edwin the Gold Seeker, 13, 288 
Eggers, Dr. A., 235 

quoted, 251 
Eldon, 178 
Elk, 271 
Elk River, 71 
Engelmanns' spruce, 62 
Epilobium or fireweed, 60 

Fairview Mt., 19 

Fay, Prof. Charles E., 235 

Finches, 11 

Fir, Douglas, 65 

Fire, camp, 134 

Fire, forest, described, 148 

in Bear Creek Valley, 145 
Fish, variation according to lo- 
cality, 276 
Fishing, in Boom Lake, 189 

Bow Lake, 274 

Consolation Lakes, 205 

Kananaskis Lakes, 279 

Moraine Lake, 174 

Rockies, general remarks, 273 

Spray Lakes, 277 
Foods, energy value of various, 129 
Fool-hen, 125 
Forbes, Mt., 256 
Fording mountain streams, 154 
Foreground in pictures, 211 
Forest fires, ancient, 149 

described, 148 

effects of, 88 
Forests, early and later impres- 
sions, 229 



Inbex 



297 



Forests — Continued 

limits of, 230 

upper limits of, 209 
Forget-me-not, 17 
Forks of Saskatchewan, 141 
Fortress Lake, 157, 158, 273 
Forty Mile Creek, 277 
Frissell, Lewis, 34, 243 

accident to, 41 

Game, kinds of, in Canadian 

Rockies, 258 
Geological formations in Canadian 

Rockies, 235 
Ghost River, 8 

Glacial period, changes since, 236 
Glissade, a ludicrous, 50 
Gnome Valley, 106, 111 
Goat, Rocky Mountain, 259 

descend to low altitude, 265 

haunts of, 260 

hunt, a, 260, 264 

stupidity of, 267 
Goodsir, Mt., 256 

North Tower of, 257 
Grieg's music, 61 
Grouse, 125 

Franklin, 272 

Richardson, 272 

Hawaiian superstitions, 287 
Healy's Creek, 72 

sources of, 10 1 
Heather, Scotch, 36 
Hector, Mt., 142 
Henderson, Yandell, 34 
Hillsdale, 186 
Himalayas, features of, 4 
Hooker, Mt., 139 

height of, 164 

measuring, 160 
Horse breaks a leg, 76 
Horses, camp, origin and traits of, 
130 

catching, in the morning, 121 

disappear near Vermilion Pass, 
182 

how to treat, 133 
Horseshoe Glacier, origin of name, 

60 
Humboldt quoted, 50 
Hungabee, Mt., 193, 256 

origin of name, 60 
Hunting tale, an Indian, 291 

Icebergs in Mc Arthur Lake, 228 
Ice pillars, 40 

Imagination, effect on, 183 
Imperial Limited, 184 



Indian camps, 194 

Indians, Stony, choice of chiefs, 285 

education of, 285 

horses, 290 

moral traits, 282 

origin, 259, 281 

prejudice against agriculture, 
286 

religious feeling, 286 

sarcasm, 53 

superstitions of, 287 

tactlessness, 44 

treaty with, 283 
Indian women, morality of, 289 

Kananaskis Lakes, fishing in, 279 
Kananaskis Pass, 271 
Kaufmann, Christian, 247, 252 

Hans, 252 
Kootenay Plains, 150 

Labrador tea, 15 

Lady's tresses, an orchid, 15 

Lake Agnes, 13, 37 

in October, 68 
Annette, 55 
Boom, 188 
Bow, 143, 144 
Louise, chalet life at, 22 

chalet, first, 13 

colours of, 19, 25 

compared, 221 

delta of, 18 

depth of, 19 

first visited, 12 

ice breaks up at, 23 

location, 12 

marvellous effects at, 26 

October visit to, 27 

outlet of, 19 

size of, 14 

storms at, 23, 24 

temperature at, 23 

temperature of water at, 
20 

trout in, 20 

wind at, 23 
McArthur, 228 
Minnewanka, 8, 278 
Mirror, 35 

Moraine, 171, 202, 221 
O'Hara, 220 
Spray, in, 277 
Vermilion, 10 
Wenkchemna, 209, 221 
Lang, Harry, 264 
Larch, Lyall's, characteristics, 38, 

64 
range, etc., 63 



298 



flnt>ei 



Larch — Continued 

peculiar effects amongst, 206 
Larkspur, 180 
Larvae, peculiar, 188 
Lefroy, Mt., 16, 33 
Lion, mountain, cry of, 205 
Little Beehive, view from, 38 
Lily, Alpine, 75 
Loon, cry of, 29 
Love of nature, 214 
Luncheons in the wilderness, 204 
Lusk, Tom, 142, 185 
Lyall's larch, 38, 63, 64, 206 

Mackenzie, Alexander, 139 
Majesty of mountains, 218 
Marmot, 37, 215 
Marmot, Parry's, 82, 215 
McArthur, J. J., 238 
Medicine men, 287 
Melleden, Col., 266 
Methodist mission at Morley, 285 
Miners' cabins opposite Eldon, 179 
Minnewanka Lake, 8, 278 
Mirror Lake, 35 
Mitre, Mt., 257 

origin of name, 45 
Moose, 271 

Moraine Lake, compared, 221 
discovery of, 171 
first view of, 171 
origin of name, 171 
wildness, 202 
Morley, 282 

Mosquitoes at Lake Louise, 20 
Mount Aberdeen, 35, 243 
Assiniboine, 69 

attempts on, 245 
circuit of, 86 
distance round base, 96 
first view of, 81 
four routes to, in 
height of, 86 
general remarks, no 
Mr. Outram's descent of 

north arete, 246 
resemblance to Matter- 
horn, no 
roughly measured, 85 
south side of, 93 
view of, 79 
Biddle, 228 
Brown, 139 
Bryce, 256 

first ascent, 247 
Cascade, 237 
Deltaform, 193, 256 
first ascent of, 251 
summit of, 254 



Douglas, 257 

Fairview, 19 

Forbes, 256 

Goodsir, 256 

Hector, 142 

Hooker, 139, 160, 164 

Hungabee, 60, 193, 256 

Lefroy, 16, 33 

avalanche from, 29, 30 
cliffs of, 30 

Mitre, 45, 257 

Pilot, 38 

Pinnacle, 48, 257 

Rundle, 6 

Temple, 51 

attempt on, 239 
first ascent of, 243 
summit of, 244 

Tunnel, 6 

Victoria, 14, 33, 257 

Wind, 238 
Mountain climbing in Canadian 

Rockies, 234 
Mountain lion, cry of, 205 
Muir, John, description of wild 

sheep, 269 
Mules not used in Canadian Rock- 
ies, 113 
Muskegs of the Bow, 143 
Mystery of the moraine, a, 219 



among 



New Year's celebration 

Stonies, 292 
Night, a wild, 240 
Nightfall at O'Hara Lake, 232 
North Fork of Saskatchewan, 150 

sources of, 154 
Northwest Mounted Police, 5 

O'Hara, Col. R., first visits O'Hara 

Lake, 227 
O'Hara Lake, an early visit to, 225 

compared, 221 

dominant impression of, 222 

in midsummer, 222 

its beauty, 220 

nightfall at, 232 
Onions, wild, 8 
Opabin Pass described, 223 
Orchids, green, 15 
Orchis, round-leafed, 
Oregon grape, 165 
Outram, Rev. James, 235 

ascends Assiniboine 245 

quoted, 245, 247, 249 
Ousels, water, traits of, 224 

Pack-horse falls into river, 151 
Packing, early experiences, 56 



74 






Hnt>ex 



299 



Painted cup, 207 

Palm, royal, compared, 229 

Paradise Valley, discovery of, 47 

general description, 60 
Parker, Prof. H. C, 252 
Parry's marmot, 82 
Park, Rocky Mountains, 5 

Yoho, 5 
Passes, silence of, 126 
Pearson, Gen. Fred., record in 

fishing, 275 
Peechee, an Indian guide, 9 
Peecock, Ross, 169, 276 
Peyto, Bill, 72, 118, 120, 264 

his adventure on the Pipe- 
stone, 135 
Peyto Lake, 145 

Photography, limited opportunities 
for, 213 

patience necessary to, 212 
Pica or tailless hare, 66 
Picas' winter store, 203 
Pilot Mt., 38 
Pine, black, 63 

white-barked, 63 
Pinnacle Mt., 257 

origin of name, 48 
Pinto, a pack-horse, 131 
Plains of Canada, 1 
Poe, Edgar Allan, quoted, 204 
Police, Northwest Mounted, 5 
Poplar, aspen, 65 
Porcupine, 66 

a baby, 190 

its cry at night, 198 
Porter, J. F., 70 
Potentilla, 172 

Prospectors' remarkable experi- 
ence, 136 

camp, a, 193 
Prospectors' Valley, exploration 
of, 194 

origin of name, 196 
Ptarmigan, 273 

traits of, 215, 216 
Pyrola, one-flowered, 125 

Raft at Fortress Lake, 160 
Rainy Valley, 192 
Ranunculacese, 207 
Rat, bush-tailed, 66, 210 
Raven, 157 

Rhododendron, 16, 175 
Riel rebellion, 284 
Rigel, 226 
Robin's nest, a, 203 
Rock slides at Moraine Lake, 173, 
202 
dangers of, 58 



immense, in Simpson Valley, 
106 
Rockies, Canadian and Selkirks, 
217 
Canadian, compared with other 

ranges, 3 
trend of mountains, 117 
Canadian, vast extent of, 4 
Rocky Mountains Park, 5 
Rogers, Major, 71, 72 
Rue, meadow, 8 
Rundle, a missionary, 282 
Rundle, Mt., 6 
Ruskin quoted, 213 

Sadness, of mountains, 204 
of the upper lakes, 210 

Sandpiper, 198, 224 

Scherzer, Dr., Report on the "Gla- 
ciers of the Canadian 
Rockies and Selkirks," 
217 

Shakespeare referred to, 214 

Sheep-laurel, 15 

Sheep, Rocky Mountain, 268 
an unusual sight of, 270 

Simeur, 215 

Silence of animal and bird life, 198 

Simpson, Sir George, 9 

Simpson River, 76, 84 

Simpson Pass, 75 

Snow-line, 61 

Snow-squalls, 231 

Snow-storm in August, 170 

Somersault, a remarkable, 59 

Sparrow, white-crested, 80, 176 

Spray Lakes, in 
fishing in, 277 

Spray River, 6 

Spring-time in the Alpine mead- 
ows, 206 

Springs, mountain, intense coldness 
of, 20 
quality of water of, 206 

Spruce, balsam, 62 

Spruce tree described, 229 

Squirrel, tameness of a, 199 

Squirrels, red, 11 

St. Cyr, 238 

Steele, Louis J., 98, 108 

Stephens, Fred, 142, 156, 264, 270 

Stony Indian reserves, 284 

Stony Indians, great hunters, 272 

Storm Mt., 187 

Storms in the mountains, 231 

Stream, a mossy, 227 

Stuart and Coleman expedition, 
141 

Stutfield, Hugh E. M., 234 



3°° 



In&er 



Sunrise in the mountains, 123, 226 
Sunset colours, 204, 232 
Sunsets in the tropics, 226 
Sun Wapta River, 157 
Superstition, an Indian, 150 
Susie, an Indian brave, 291 

Tameness, remarkable example of, 

146 
Temple, Mt., 51 

attempt on, 239 

first ascent of, 243 

summit of, 244 
Ten Peaks, Valley of, 218 
Thompson, C. S., 235 
Thoreau quoted, 212 
Tower of Babel, origin of name, 

171, 174 
Tragedy of the wilderness, a, 136 
Trails, origin of, 126 
Tree-line, 61 

Trees, slow growth of, 228 
Tropical sunsets, 226 
Trout, discovered in Moraine Lake, 

in Lake Louise, 20 
Tunnel Mt., view from, 6 
Turner, 208 
Twin Peaks, a mountain at Banff, 

237 
Twin, William, 42, 53 

loses his children, 290 
woodcraft of, 137 
Tyndall, explains colour of sky 
and water, 19 

Valerian, 180, 208 

Vastness of mountains, 218 



Vermilion Lakes, 10 
Vermilion Pass, view of, 187 
Vermilion River, origin of name, 
196 

sources of, 197 
Victoria, Mt., 14, 33 

north arete unsealed, 257 
Violets, yellow, 15 ' 

Wagner referred to, 214 

Walling, Messrs., 245 

Warrington, George, 34 

contrives a sounding reel, 34 
falls through a crevasse, 45 

Wasps at Lake Louise, 21 

Wastach Pass, 217 

Weather, in Canadian Rockies, 237 

Webb, Dr. Seward, 278 

Weed, G. M., 235 

Wenkchemna Lake, 209 
compared, 221 
meaning of name, 218 

Wheeler, A. 0., Preface 

Whiskey- jacks, 199 

White-crested sparrow, 176 

White Man's Pass, in 

Whymper, Edward, 235 

Wildman, Enoch, 239, 240 

Wilson, Tom, 12, 115, 224, 275 

his memory of places seen, 70 

Wind at Moraine Lake, 202 

Wind Mt., 238 

Wolverene, 82 

Wood River, 165 

Woolley, H., 234 

Yellow Head Pass, 139 
Yoho Park, area, 5 




OF THE 

ROW MOUNTAINS 

(CAMAMAN FA CT1F1C MS^VM' 











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